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PIONEERS 


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LITTLE 



PIONEERS 



The little procession took its way to the common house 


LITTLE PIONEERS 


BY 

MAUDE RADFORD WARREN 

II 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
LUCY FITCH PERKINS 



RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 
CHICAGO NEW YORK LONDON 



Copyright, 1016 

By Maude Radford Warren 




% 

NOV 17 1916 

©CI.A445693 

I V 

V 


To My Godsons 

Tuin yttlB 

Martin Warren Davenport 
John Byrne Davenport 




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THE CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Introduction 9 

CHAPTER 

I. Gifts of the Sea 13 

II. At Anchor . 20 

III. Exploring 30 

IV. The First Encounter 41 

V. Home 52 

VI. How THE Boys Got Dinner ... 64 

VII. A Memorable Week 76 

VIII. How THE Pioneers Kept House . 86 

IX. The Bitter Winter 100 

X. Friendly Visitors . . . ., . .110 

XI. The Meeting with Massasoit . .121 

XII. Squanto as Teacher 132 

XIII. A Store of Sweets 141 

XIV. The Sailing -of the “Mayflower” 155 

XV. School • . . . . 172 

XVI. The Adventure OF John Billington . 183 

XVII. Squanto’s Stories 198 

XVIH. The Flax Workers 209 

XIX. Harvest Time 220 

XX. The Great' Event of the Year . 231 

XXI. The Thanksgiving 242 

Suggestions to Teachers 252 


7 






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THE INTRODUCTION 

T his book, Little Pioneers, deals with the 
adventures of the Puritans during the first 
year in New England up to Thanksgiving 
Day. It consists of what might be called a 
series of fact-stories. That is, dates and names 
and all the main events portrayed have been set 
down precisely from the narrations in William 
Bradford’s Journal. The individual traits of 
the different characters, as gathered from this 
journal, and from other histories bearing on the 
events of the time, have been utilized as accurately 
as may be, considering the limitations of inter- 
pretation. But certain conversations, though 
true to the general situation, have necessarily 
been invented. Moreover, the daily living of 
the Puritans has been generalized from partial 
descriptions in Bradford’s book, from what has 
been stated in later histories, and from what it 
is assumed the pioneer conditions of that time 
must have been. Finally, the industries in 
which the Puritan children are supposed to have 
shared have been largely taken from accounts 
written in those happy years when the colonies 
were sure of continued existence. Emphasis has 


9 


10 


The Introduction 


been put on these house and field occupations, 
because a grasp on them, as well as on the external 
events of the time, will help little readers to a 
fuller comprehension of early life in the first 
colony. 

Little Pioneers has been written from the point 
of^view of the child pioneer, and not of the adult 
pioneer, for the reason that this is the most 
economical way of making young readers really 
feel the tremendous achievement of those brave 
men and women who, by sheer courage, endurance, 
and faith, conquered New England. By following 
the adventures of Love Brewster and his friends, 
the child readers put themselves in the place of 
those other children, and feel the dramatic force 
of the struggles and accomplishment of that 
first year in the New World. It is hoped that a 
realization of that splendid bravery will have its 
small share in bringing to the child the under- 
standing of true and healthful patriotism which 
comes to him, if at all, in his grammar-school 
days. 


Maude Radford Warren 





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Ohf if we could only reach land! 


f > 


said Love Brewster 








LITTLE PIONEERS 


CHAPTER I 

Gifts of the Sea 

H OW the sea heaved! The little ship May- 
flower was fighting her way to America 
through the waves. Sometimes she lifted herself 
as if she were going to fly; sometimes she dipped 
until her hand-rail almost touched the water. 

She was a queer-looking ship, with a high deck 
and dark cabins and great sails. She leaked a 
little, and she tossed a great deal. But the 
hundred people on board were very thankful to 
have any kind of ship. They were poor, and they 
had suffered a great deal. Now they were coming 
to a new country where they could be free. 

A group of children stood near the middle of 
the deck, looking out over the dark waters. Some 
of them were very little; others were fifteen or 
sixteen years old. Nearly all of them looked sad 
and tired. 

“Oh, if we could only reach land!” said Love 
Brewster. 

Love was eight years old, with eyes as blue 


14 


Little Pioneers 


as English violets. His brown hair was curly, 
though Mistress Brewster, his gentle mother, cut 
it very short. 

“I do not believe we shall ever get off this 
water,” said Bart Allerton, Love’s best friend. 

At this little Damaris Hopkins began to cry, 
and Priscilla Molines, a pretty, merry-faced girl, 
picked her up and soothed her. 

“Hush, children,” she said to Love and Bart; 
“only have patience.” 

“But, Priscilla, I have no room to run,” said 
Love. 

“And everybody looks so sad,” said little 
Remember Allerton. “The ship may be going 
to sink, as they feared last week.” 

“Nay, nay,” answered Priscilla, laughing; “our 
elders always look sad.” 

“Except you, dear Priscilla,” Love said. 

Priscilla was French. Although she was going 
with the grave English to America, many a time 
her gay laugh caused her elders to shake their 
heads and sigh. But Priscilla was as bright as 
the sunshine of France, and as merry as the music 
the peasants of her own country loved, and she 
could not change her nature. 

She wore a touch of color at her throat, and 
the children liked to see it. The other women 
wore gray or black dresses; even the little girls 


Gifts of the Sea 


15 


wore sober colors, and their dresses came to their 
feet, making them sedate little copies of their 
mothers. The girdles and trousers and doublets 
of the men and boys were all of dark materials. 
The Pilgrims did not believe in gay colors — nor, 
indeed, in gayety of any sort. 

“Now I will tell you a secret,” Priscilla said. 
“Something has happened that you will all like.” 

“What is it?” they all asked. 

“God has sent us a gift,” Priscilla said. 

“Oh, is it something to eat?” asked Wrestling 
Brewster, Love’s seven-year-old brother. 

“No.” 

“I’d rather have something to eat, — a big 
fruit pudding,” Bart said. 

“I’d like to eat three all by myself,” said John 
Billington. 

“Don’t be greedy, John,” Priscilla said. 
“Listen.” 

An odd wailing sound came to them from the 
high deck cabin. 

“It is the wind in the sails,” declared Bart. 

“It — it is a cat,” said Wrestling. 

At this all the children laughed. They knew 
very well it was not a cat. It was a long time 
since they had seen one, although there were two 
dogs on board. 

“Go, Love, to Mr. Hopkins,” said Priscilla. 


i6 


Little Pioneers 


“Ask him to show you the gift that was sent us 
all here on the sea.” 

The other children watched Love as he hurried 
over the uneven deck, and entered the cabin. 
Presently he returned with Mr. Hopkins, a tall, 
grave man, gray-haired and dark-eyed. 

“Come then, children, and you shall see the 
gift,” said Mr. Hopkins. 

He turned to his little daughter Damaris, who 
was clinging to Priscilla’s hand. 

“The gift is for you most of all, Damaris,” he 
said. 

The children followed Mr. Hopkins into the 
cabin. There in the corner stood a quaint little 
box upon rockers. 

“It’s a cradle,” Love whispered. 

“And is a cat in it?” asked Wrestling. 

Mr. Hopkins bent down and lifted out a little 
white bundle. 

“It’s a baby!” cried the children. 

And a baby it was. It opened its little blue 
eyes, and wrinkled its pink nose, and struck out 
with its little fists. As the children looked at the 
baby, John Billington, who was always getting 
into mischief, tried to tickle it. But Priscilla 
held his hand. 

“Whose baby is it?” asked Bart. 

“Mine,” said Mr. Hopkins. “He is to be 


Gifts of the Sea ly 

called Oceanus, because he has come to us here 
1 on the great ocean.” 

Little Oceanus opened his mouth and cried, as if 
he did not like the Atlantic Ocean. Mr. Hopkins 



carried him to his mother, while Priscilla took 
the children on deck again. 

“Baby Oceanus is not English, and he is not 


I 


i8 


Little Pioneers 


American," said Love. “It is very strange to be 
born on the sea. He does not belong anywhere." 

“Yes, he does," said Bart. “If we are nearer 
England, he belongs to England. If we are 
nearer America, he belongs to America." 

“But we can’t tell where we are; we don’t know 
whether we are near land or not," Love said. 
‘ ‘ Let us go once more to the front of the ship and 
look." 

“No," said Bart, “it would be of no use. I am 
tired of trying to see land.” 

So Love walked by himself to the bow of the 
Mayflower. The whole world seemed to be the 
half of a big ball, the green ocean the flat part 
and the blue sky the curved part. Love could 
see nothing but sky and water. ' 

“If there is land, I could see it first, for father 
says I am far-sighted," he thought. 

For a long time he stood there, looking at the 
white crests on the dark green waves and thinking 
of little Oceanus. All at once, as he raised his 
eyes, he gave a jump. 

“I do see something!" he shouted. “I see 
a little gray line away to one side." 

He looked and looked till his eyes ached. The 
longer he looked, the surer he was that he saw 
land. 

He ran to his father, who was the elder, or 


. Gifts of the Sea ig 

minister, of the little company. Elder Brewster 
was talking to Mr. Hopkins. 

“Oh, dear father, may I speak to you?” Love 
said. For the little Puritan children had been 
taught to show great respect to their parents. 

“What is it, child?” asked Elder Brewster. 

“I see land!” shouted Love. “Let me tell 
Captain Jones that I see land!” 

At that moment a sailor away up on the mast 
shouted, “Land, ho!” 

How the children laughed! Even their sober 
elders smiled, and the sailors of the ship cheered 
loudly. 

“I knew it was land, and I found it first,” 
Love said, jumping up and down. 

Quiet little Wrestling Brewster took his father’s 
hand. 

“God has given us two gifts to-day,” he said. 
“Little Oceanus and the land.” 


CHAPTER II 


At Anchor 

I T WAS the eleventh of November, 1620. For 
two days the Mayflower had been sailing in 
sight of land. She had come on the ninth of 
November to Cape Cod. Then the captain had 
tried to go to the Hudson River, but had finally 
decided that it was wiser to return to anchor in 
Cape Cod Harbor. 

One after another the children woke with the 
feeling that something splendid had happened. 
They dressed quickly and ran up on deck. Many 
of their parents and elders were leaning against 
the hand-rail, gazing on the land. The children 
looked with joy upon the splendid harbor, large 
enough to hold a thousand ships. The sand 
shone like gold, and beyond the shore rose great 
green cedar and pine trees. They could see multi- 
tudes of wild fowl, and gulls flying and calling. 
The children would have liked to shout and 
jump, but they were always quiet in the pres- 
ence of their elders. 

Priscilla was standing in the stem of the ship, 
talking to John Alden. The children had always 
found these two ready to answer their questions, 


20 


At Anchor 


21 


so they went to John and Priscilla, quickly but 
noiselessly. 

“John Alden!” called Bart. “Tell me what it 
is that makes the water spout high up in the air, 
out beyond us.’’ 

“Whales,” John Alden replied. “The captain 
says that if only we had the instruments to take 
those whales we should earn much money.” 

The children knew that it was necessary for the 
Pilgrim fathers to earn money to pay off their 
debts. 

“It will make us so glad to get a home of our 
own,” Love said, “that we shall soon be rich.” 

Priscilla and John Alden smiled at each other. 
They knew that the children did not realize that 
they were little pioneers. They had come many 
hundreds of miles to work in a new land for other 
children. They would, while still children, work 
as hard as if they were men and women. And 
some day other children would read about the 
lives of these little pioneers, and think of them 
as the founders of America. 

“Father says we may find sassafras,” Love 
said; “and sassafras sells for a good price in 
England.” 

“And otter and beaver skins,” Bart added. 

“When are we to land?” John Billington asked. 

“You’d better be thinking of your breakfast,” 


22 


Little Pioneers 


Priscilla said. “Come with me, and I will give 
it to you.” 

The children followed her to the cabin. Pris- 
cilla and Mary Chilton gave them food, and they 
all talked as much as they wanted to. 

“Maybe this is the last stale water I need 
drink,” said Bart, making a face as he drank 
from his mug. 

“And no more moldy bread,” said John 
Billington. 

He threw the crust he was holding under his 
stool, but Priscilla made him pick it up. 

“Waste not, want not,” she said gravely. 
“You do not know that this new land will be a 
land of plenty.” 

“Will there be cows?” asked Remember 
Allerton. 

Three of the little girls, Mary Allerton, Damaris 
Hopkins, and Ellen More, looked up anxiously. 
They all liked milk, and they had had none for 
many weeks. Perhaps once a week they were' 
allowed butter as a great treat. Priscilla was 
sorry to disappoint them. 

“I am afraid we shall not have milk till they 
send cows from England,” she said. “But we 
shall have other good food. There will be new 
kinds of fish and nuts. We shall find something 
to eat.” 


At Anchor 


23 

“And perhaps we shall find things to eat us,” 
said John Billington; “bears and lions.” 

He growled in a harsh deep voice, and Damaris 



Priscilla made him pick up the crust 


Hopkins and little Resolved White, who were 
only five years old, began to cry. 

“Nay, then, if you can find nothing better to 
do, go back to bed, John,” said Priscilla. 



24 


Little Pioneers 


None of the children ever disobeyed Priscilla, 
so John got up from his stool, and went away, 
grumbling. Damaris and Resolved stopped cry 
ing, and the other children began to ask Priscilla 
questions. 

“How can I answer you all at once?” she asked. 
“Besides, you must come on deck. Our elders 
need the cabin.” 

The children went on deck, and once more 
leaned over the hand-rail, gazing at the shore. 
Mistress Brewster, Love’s mother, a gentle, 
white-haired, sweet-faced lady, joined Priscilla. 

“The little ones are glad to see the green again,” 
she said. “They do not know what dangers lie 
before them.” 

“Nay, surely we have left all dangers behind,” 
Priscilla said. “We have done with persecution, 
and strange countries. We have passed over the 
furious ocean, and come in safety to our own land, 
America, to serve God in our own way.” 

Mrs. Brewster smiled, but sadly. She knew 
better than Priscilla what the Pilgrims had to 
face, though even she did not guess all they were 
to endure. When a traveler goes to a new 
country now he often has friends to meet him, or, 
if not friends, at least there are strangers who 
will be kind to him. He finds houses to shelter 
him, and shops where he can buy what he needs. 


At Anchor 


25 


There is no lack of food and clothes for him. No 
matter how strange the place is to which he has 
come, there will always be people who can tell 
him all about it. 

But the Pilgrim fathers, or Puritans as they are 
called, had come to a country of which they knew 
but little. They did know that the land was full 
of Indians who might not be friendly. They knew 
that the winters were cold. Perhaps there were 
dangerous wild beasts. The winter was coming 
on, and all that stood between them and death 
was the Mayflower. But the stock of food in the 
Mayflower was running low, and the sailors were 
in a hurry to have the Pilgrims land. 

Indeed, some of the most impatient ones 
muttered that they ought to put the Pilgrims and 
their property on the sands and then sail away 
and find a safe harbor for the Mayflower. But 
others were willing to wait until the shallop was 
repaired. The shallop was a large boat capable 
of holding perhaps forty people. It was to be 
used for exploring the bays and rivers. It had 
been cut down so that it could fit between the 
decks, and it was otherwise in a state of bad 
repair, because some of the people had been 
sleeping in it. 

When the children were tired of looking at the 
shore, they began again to ask Priscilla and 


26 


Little Pioneers 


Mistress Brewster when they should be allowed 
to land. 

‘ ‘ Some of the men are going on shore to-day, to 
bring us fresh water and wood,” Mistress Brewster 
said; “but you children must wait.” 

Just then Elder Brewster, Mr. Carver, Captain 
Miles Standish, John Alden, and several other men 
came out of the cabin. They had been drawing 
up an agreement which has had a great effect on 
the history of all of us now living in America. 
They agreed to combine themselves into a “civil 
body politic” to plant a colony. They meant 
to advance the Christian faith. They meant to 
enact just and equal laws for the general good of 
the colony, to which they all promised obedience. 
Mr. Carver was chosen for the governor. 

Love and Bart and the other children watched 
the elders respectfully, little knowing that the 
agreement just entered into would sow the seeds 
of the American republic. All the children were 
thinking of was how soon they could go on shore. 

They looked over the side of the vessel, and 
watched the sailors lower the small boat. Into this 
some fifteen men descended, all wearing armor. 

“I do not think. the arrows of the savages can 
hurt them,” Love said. 

‘ ‘ I wish I could swim to shore and go with 
them,” John Billington whispered. 


At Anchor 


27 


“Why can’t we go, Priscilla?” asked Bart. 
“The little boat could take us all in ten trips.” 
“Tut, tut,” Priscilla said. “You should think 



They looked over the side of the 
vessel and watched the sailors 


before you speak. We must find out what the 
land is like before we give the men the trouble 
of landing us. Do you suppose all the land is 


28 


Little Pioneers 


equally good? Are not some spots in England 
better than others? Our men must spend some 
days in looking for the best spot.” 

“And to-morrow is Sunday,” John Billington 
said. “They will never let us land on Sunday!” 

“No,” Priscilla replied; “but we women are 
going on shore on Monday to wash the clothes. 
You shall all come and help. You shall gather 
brushwood to make the fires, and carry water 
from the spring.” 

“I shall run a mile!” Love cried. 

“I shall find nuts,” Bart said. 

“And I ’ll dig for shellfish,” John Billington said. 

The children made these plans while they 
watched the boat being rowed close to shore. 
They saw the men land and then go marching 
across the sands, little black dots. All day long 
the children played contentedly. Every time 
they got impatient, they tried to remember how 
much better it was to ride at anchor than to toss 
about on the sea. They looked at the shore, and 
told each other that in forty hours they should 
be on land. 

Late in the afternoon the exploring party came 
back. They brought fresh water, and sweet- 
smelling cedar, which they called juniper. They 
had not found any especial place in which to 
start a settlement, but they had a good report 


At Anchor 


29 


to make of the country. The soil was rich, and 
there was plenty of wood. 

“We can stay in these parts,” Love said to Bart. 
“We need not look for the Hudson River.” 

“If once I get off the May flower y'" Bart said, 
“I will never set foot in her again. I am tired 
of the ocean.” 

“I am glad that we can soon begin to say 
‘home,’” Love replied. “I want to help build 
the houses, and then I shall know we are really 
settled in America.” 


CHAPTER III 


Exploring 

J OHN ALDEN sat in the little dark paneled 
cabin of the Mayflower, looking into a group 
of eager faces. All the children were there. In 
the front row were Love Brewster and his younger 
brother Wrestling, Bart Allerton and his brother 
Remember and his sister Mary, and John Billing- 
ton and his brother Francis. At one side sat 
Damaris Hopkins and Ellen More, with little 
Resolved White between them. The older chil- 
dren were in the background with their mothers. 

The children and women were looking eagerly 
at John Alden, because he was about to tell them 
the story of the first real exploration. It was 
Friday, the seventeenth of November. On Wed- 
nesday, the fifteenth, sixteen men had set out, 
wearing armor and carrying muskets and swords. 
They had returned all tired out. 

“As you know,” began John Alden, “we grew 
weary of waiting for the carpenter to finish the 
shallop by which we might explore the rivers 
running into the land. So we decided to explore 
the lands on foot. You may have seen us walking 
in single file by the sea.” 




30 


Exploring 


31 



Sixteen men set out, wearing armor and carrying muskets 
and swords 


“Yes,” put in John Billington, who liked 
to interrupt, “but you only walked a ’mile by 
the sea.” 

“That is true,” John said, “and the reason was 
that after a while we saw coming toward us five 


32 


Little Pioneers 


or six people and a dog. We thought it was 
Captain Jones and some of his men, whom we 
knew were ashore. When these people saw us 
they whistled to their dog and ran into the woods. 
Then we knew they were Indians, and we marched 
after them.” 

“Oh,” whispered little Damaris Hopkins, 
trembling. 

“We followed them by the traces their foot- 
steps made in the sand,” John Alden continued. 

■ “We went about ten miles. They ran up a hill 
to see if we followed them. At last night came, 
and we felt hungry and tired. So we set three 
sentinels' to watch, and the rest of us gathered 
wood and kindled a fire, and had some biscuits 
and Holland cheese. 

‘ ‘ In the morning, as soon as it was light enough, 
we followed the tracks of the Indians. These 
tracks led us into a wood, where we supposed we 
should see some Indian dwellings. But we found 
ourselves marching among thick boughs and 
bushes which tore our flesh and even our armor. 
We did not see the Indians, or their houses, nor 
did we find any water. We had carried no water 
with us, and we were very thirsty. 

“About ten o’clock we came into a deep valley, 
full of brush and long grass. There we saw a 
deer, bending his head down,” 


Exploring jj 

“You knew he must be drinking from a spring,” 
Love whispered. 

John did not mind this interruption. He was 
always pleased when the children thought for 
themselves. 

“After we had had all the water we needed,” 
he continued, “we went south, because we wanted 
to come to the shore and build a fire so that you 
on the ship would see it, and know where we were, 
and that we were safe. We marched on until 
we reached another valley, where we found a 
splendid pool of fresh water. Here also were 
tracks of deer and fowl, and also many vines and 
much sassafras.” 

At this the children looked delighted. They 
knew how much their elders counted on selling 
sassafras in London. 

“Best of all, we found fifty acres of land which 
had been plowed, and where the Indians had 
planted their com.” 

Again the children looked glad, for even the 
youngest child knew how necessary it was for the 
well-being of the Pilgrims that they should find 
fields fit for growing food. 

“Then,” continued John, “we found something 
that the children will wish to know about. After 
further marching, we struck into a little path 
leading to certain heaps of sand. One of these 
3 


34 


Little Pioneers 


was covered with old mats, and had a wooden 
thing like a mortar on top of it, and an earthen 
pot laid in a little hole at the end of it. We dug, 
and found a bow and arrows, all decayed. We 
believed that if we dug farther we should find 
other things, but we supposed we were digging 
into graves, so we stopped. We felt it would 
offend the Indians if we touched their graves. 

“We marched on, and found new stubble from 
which the Indians had got corn this very year. 
We found walnut trees, with nuts on them, 
strawberry vines, and grapevines.” 

John Alden smiled, put his hands in his pockets, 
and drew out about a hundred nuts which he 
divided among the children. Then he continued 
his story. 

“We came to a field where a wigwam had stood, 
and near by were several planks, and a great 
ship’s kettle. The planks were probably the re- 
mains of a hut built by shipwrecked sailors, and 
no doubt the kettle also belonged to them. Near 
by was a heap of sand, so recently made that we 
could see the marks of the fingers which had patted 
it down. We formed ourselves into a ring about 
this, and began to dig. First we found a little 
old basket full of fair Indian corn. We dug 
farther, and found a great new basket full of corn. 
It had thirty-six ears, some yellow, and some 


Exploring 


35 


red, and others mixed with blue. This basket, 
which was round, and narrow at the top, was of 
different colors, and was very beautifully made. 
It held three or four bushels, and was as much as 
two of us could lift up from the ground.” 

“Oh,” cried Love, “that was an Indian barn 
or granary.” 

“You are right. Love,” replied John Alden. 
“We consulted as to what we should do. We 
knew we must have corn to plant if we are to 
keep ourselves alive. We decided to carry away 
the kettle and as much of the corn as we could. 
Then, when the shallop is ready, we shall find the 
Indians, and return the kettle. There were a 
great many loose kernels, and these we put in our 
pockets.” 

John took some grains from his pocket and 
passed them about among the children. They 
looked at the com with interest, for none of them 
had ever seen any before. John Billington lifted 
a grain to his mouth, but Priscilla, who had been 
watching him, took it away from him. 

“That grain of com,” she said, “which you 
would so thoughtlessly waste, may produce enough 
to feed a child for a day.” 

“We walked on,” John Alden continued, “two 
men carrying the great kettle. We were looking 
for a river, and on the way to it we found an old 


36 


Little Pioneers 


palisade, or rude fort, which looked as if it might 
have been built by white men. Perhaps the 
people who owned the kettle made it. We came 
to the water, but whether it was fresh or salt we 
had no time to discover, for we had had our orders 
to be out only two days. Then, what do you 
think we found?” 

“Oh, what?” cried the children. 

“Two canoes, made of birch bark, so light that 
two men could have carried one of them over the 
land all day without getting tired.” 

“Oh, I wish you had brought them back!” 
John Billington said. 

“They were not ours,” Alden said. 

“Nay, neither was the com,” Bart Allerton 
whispered. 

“But the corn was necessary to sustain our 
lives,” explained John Alden, “and we know that 
the Indians have more corn all over this country. 
We do not need the canoes to save our lives.” 

“Nay, continue the story, John Alden,” Pris- 
cilla said. 

“There is little more to tell. We went back to 
the fresh- water pond, and there we made a great 
fire, and put a barricade to windward. We kept 
good watch, with three sentinels, each man standing 
when his turn came. It was a rainy, cold night. 

“In the morning we took our kettle and sunk 


Exploring 


37 


it in the pond. We had to look sharp to our 
muskets, for few of them would go off, because 
of the wet. Then we went toward the wood 



“/w the morning we took our kettle and 
sunk it in the pond” 

again, meaning to come home, but we lost our 
way. While we were wandering, we came to a 
tree. We saw a young sapling bent down to the 


Little Pioneers 


3S 

ground, with some acorns strewn under it. 
Stephen Hopkins said it was made to catch deer. 
William Bradford had been standing some distance 
away. Not seeing what he was doing, he stepped 
on the trap. It caught him by the leg, and tripped 
him.” 

The children smiled. They would have liked 
to laugh out loud, but they were afraid to. Pris- 
cilla, however, did laugh, and the women looked 
at her reprovingly. They all thought Priscilla 
was too light-hearted, for in their serious lives 
laughter had small place. But the children liked 
Priscilla’s merry ways. 

“Our marching was by no means done,” John 
Alden continued. “We went on. Soon we saw 
three splendid bucks. To tell the truth, children, 
we would rather have had one than seen three, 
for we longed for fresh meat. We saw many 
geese and ducks that were much afraid of us. At 
last we caught a couple of partridges, and very 
glad we were to have them. It was hard work 
walking in our armor, and with the weight in our 
pockets. Besides, the sand was heavy on our 
feet. When we were not walking on the sand, we 
were walking in water up to our knees; I fear 
that some among us have taken heavy colds. At 
last we came in sight of the Mayflower, and she 
was a glad sight to us.” 


Exploring 


39 


“Perhaps,” said little Damaris Hopkins, “per- 
haps you were as glad to see the Mayflower as we 
were to see land a week ago.” 

“Perhaps we were, my little maid,” John 
replied. 

“What happened next?” asked John Billington. 

“Next we shot off our muskets so that you 
might know we were safe and near. Governor 
Carver and Captain Jones, who were on shore, 
came hurrying to meet us and hear our news. 
Then we were rowed to the ship. Then I told 
you this story.” 

“It is a good story, John Alden, and we thank 
you,” Love said, with grave courtesy. 

‘ ‘ But where are we to live ? ’ ’ asked Bart. ‘ ‘ Are 
we to build where the Indian wigwam was?” 

“Nay, that is not sufficiently protected.” 

“Then are we to live where the palisade was?” 
Bart said. 

“Nay, that is too far away from good fields, 
and is not sufficiently protected,” John Alden 
replied. “Jn truth, we found no suitable spot.” 

“We have been here a whole week and have not 
found our home yet,” complained John Billington. 

“Not so fast, John Billington,” Priscilla said. 
“Remember that what we choose will affect those 
who follow us for countless years. We must not 
be too hasty.” 


40 


Little Pioneers 


“I suppose,” said Love, thoughtfully, “that 
we must choose a piece of land where there is a 
good stream and a big hill.” 

“Why should we want a hill?” Wrestling asked 
“To tell when the Indians are coming,” Love 
said; “and to look away out to sea for the ships 
that will sail to us from England.” 

“Some day,” Priscilla said, “people will stand 
on the shores and docks of England, looking for 
great ships which we shall send to them. For we 
people here, this little handful of people in this 
cabin, will form a great nation.” 

The children listened with wondering faces. 
The women and John Alden listened with rather 
sad faces. They knew that what Priscilla said 
was true. But they also knew that hard work 
and deprivation lay before the founders of the 
great nation. They were willing to pay the price, 
but they feared it would be heavy. 


CHAPTER IV 


The First Encounter 

I T SEEMED to the children of the Mayflower 
as if they were never going to find a place to 
land. A company of thirty-six men set out late 
in November and the children felt sure they would 
find a good place for a home, especially since their 
dear John Alden and Captain Miles Standish were 
of the number. But the men came back with 
food, with a wild duck and deer, and with infor- 
mation, but with no settling place decided upon., 
John Alden told the children of this journey. 
He said that the men came to the place where 
they had first found the corn, and dug farther. 
They found a bottle of oil, more corn, some 
baskets of wheat, and a bag of beans, — in all, 
ten bushels. Some, of the men returned to the 
Mayflower, but eighteen went on. In digging 
into a place covered with boards they fpund mats, 
a bow, a carved board, trays and dishes, and two 
bundles. The bundles contained the skull of a 
fair-haired man and the bones of a child. Long 
afterwards the Pilgrims learned that this man was 
a shipwrecked sailor who had lived for a short 
time among the Indians. 

41 


42 


Little Pioneers 


What interested the children still more was 
John Alden’s account of two Indian wigwams, 
covered with mats, inside and out, and containing 
wooden and earthen dishes, colored baskets, 
deer’s heads and feet, and also fish meat, which 
showed that the Indians had lived there very 
lately. But John’s interesting account did not 
make up for the fact that the party had not found 
a suitable place to settle. 

On the thirteenth of December the children were 
leaning over the rail of the Mayflower, watching 
the shallop approach from the shore. It held 
eighteen men, Captain^ Miles Standish being the 
leader. Mistress Brewster and Priscilla stood 
with them. Mistress Brewster was counting the 
men. 

“All there, and all well, I trust,” she said to 
Priscilla. “Ever since the men saw the Indians 
on that first exploration, I have been afraid.” 

“I am like the children,” Priscilla said; “I am 
weary of all this searching. I long for a place 
we can call home.” 

The shallop came nearer and nearer. The 
children could plainly see Captain Miles Standish 
sitting stern-faced in the front of the boat. 

“Do you think they look as if they had good 
news for us, Bart?” Love asked, as the shallop 
came nearer. “I cannot read their faces.” 


The First Encounter 4j 

“Their faces would be the same,” Bart replied, 
“no matter what had befallen them.” 

Their nearness to the Mayflower inspired the 
men who were rowing the shallop. They came 
on now with quick strokes. 

“Good cheer!” Captain Miles Standish called, 
as the shallop drew in to the side of the Mayflower. 
“We have the best of news!” 

The explorers climbed up the side of the May- 
flower, stiff and tired. Some of them were wet 
through, and all of them were cold. The women 
made ready food and drink in the warm cabin. 
Without changing their damp clothes, the men 
sat down to their food. 

After the men had been refreshed. Captain Miles 
Standish began to tell what had befallen them. 
Every one had crowded into the cabin. The 
children made themselves as small as they could, 
and were very quiet, for fear they should be sent 
away. They wished that it was John Alden who 
was telling the story, for he would have let them 
ask questions, but John had not gone on this 
exploration. 

“We set out on the sixth of December, as you 
know,” Captain Miles Standish began. “It was 
very cold. We sailed for six or seven leagues 
till we found a bay, in which we landed. As we 
approached we saw ten or twelve Indians, busy 


44 


Little Pioneers 


over a black thing. They ran away, and when 
we got close to the black thing we found it was a 
grampus. They had been cutting blubber from 
it. That night we saw the smoke from the 
Indians’ fire, some four or five miles from us. 

“The next day we followed the tracks of the 
Indians over the sand. We passed an old corn- 
field, and a large burying ground. Then we found 
Indian houses. All day long we traveled, and at 
night we went back to the shallop. We gathered 
wood, made a fire, ate of our own food, and set 
our sentinels to watch. 

“We lay about the fire. The sentinels walked 
up and down, now and then speaking a word 
to each other. They spoke softly, so as not to 
wake those who slept. It was very, very still.’’ 

“Oh!’’ cried Priscilla, “I wonder what thoughts 
were in your mind as you lay about the fire! I 
wonder if you did not fear the dangers that may 
come to us in this new country, and think of 
the miles and miles of salt water lying between 
us and our friends in our old home.” 

Some of the Pilgrim fathers frowned at Priscilla, 
though she looked very sweet and earnest when 
she spoke. They did not think she should have 
interrupted the story. Captain Miles Standish 
liked Priscilla, and^he answered her kindly. 

“I did remember that much depended on the 


The First Encounter 


45 


safety of the lives of my men,” he said, “and 
I trusted that we should all be kept safe from 
harm imtil we had made a new nation for the 
Lord. After a while I went to sleep. Just about 
midnight I was awakened by a hideous cry. 

“ ‘Arm! arm!’ cried one of the sentinels. 

“Some of the men roused up from beside the 
fire, and looked about them, with staring eyes. 

“ ‘Nay,’ cried another of the sentinels, who was 
a sailor; ‘that is a cry I have often heard in 
Newfoundland. It is the cry of wolves or of foxes.’ 

“To be safe, we shot off a couple of muskets, 
and the noise ceased. We supposed that it was 
wolves, and we went back to sleep.” 

Love and Bart were listening intently. They 
knew from the manner of Captain Standish that 
he had more to tell them about that hideous cry. 

“About five in the morning,” he continued, 
“we arose, had our prayers, and got breakfast. 
We carried everything to the shallop, includ- 
ing our arms. While we were sitting about the 
fire, eating our breakfast, we again heard that 
dreadful cry. 

‘ ‘ ‘ Woach ! woach ! ha ! ha ! hach ! woach ! ’ ” 

How the children jumped as the captain 
repeated the sound ! Little Damaris Hopkins put 
her fingers in her ears, and shuddered. Remember 
Allerton clung tight to his brother Bart. Ellen 


46 


Little Pioneers 


More cried softly, and hid her head in the lap of 
Mistress Brewster. The captain leaned forward 
in his big armchair, and spoke more quickly. 

“One of the men, who had left the fire and gone 
into the open, came running back, and cried, ‘They 
are men! Indians! Indians!’ 

“Then arrows began to rain upon us. Some of 
us ran, unprotected, to the boat, to get our arms. 
We were in such a hurry that one or two slipped 
in the sands by the boat, and fell. One man 
dropped his musket in the water. Two or three 
of us seized and tugged at the same musket. 
Some of the men stayed by the boat, and the 
rest of us ran back to the fire. 

“All this time the arrows kept coming at us, 
from the direction of the woods. It was still not 
very light, and we could not see the Indians 
clearly. I made one shot, and then another man 
followed it with another shot. Then I bade the 
men not to waste powder, and not to shoot till 
they could take good aim. 

“We called down to the men at the shallop, 
‘How is it with you?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘Well, well, ’ they cried. ‘ Be of good courage. ’ 

“We heard three of their pieces go off, and then 
we heard them calling for a firebrand to light the 
matches of their muskets. One brave fellow ran 
up to the fire, with the Indians shooting at him. 


The First Encounter 


47 


He got a log, put it on his shoulder, and ran back. 
This we think discouraged the Indians. All this 



''Then arrows kept coming at ns from the direction 
of the woods ” 


time they kept repeating that frightful cry: 

‘ ‘ ‘ Woach ! woach ! ha ! ha ! hach ! woach ! ’ ” 
Love and Bart were very glad that Captain 
Standish had repeated the Indian yell. Their 
lips moved busily, learning it, for they wanted to 


48 


Little Pioneers 


use it in “playing Indians.” They were so inter- 
ested in learning the new sounds that John 
Billington had to pinch them to make them pay 
attention to the next part of the story. 

“We knew that we must frighten the Indians,” 
Captain Standish continued. “We feared that 
they were angry with us for having disturbed 
their graves. We were sorry we had done that, 
but still we could not let them kill us ; we had the 
new settlement to think of. There was a splendid 
brave Indian, shooting many arrows at us. He 
was fit to be their chief, because he was larger 
and braver than the others. 

“I took aim at him, but my ball only shaved 
the bark of the tree, and he uttered a yell, mocking 
me. If a ball could have gone whirling about the 
tree behind which he was hiding, I could have hit 
him. I waited till the Indian put out his arm to 
take aim at us. Then I shot, and the ball went 
into his arm. He uttered a great shriek, and 
dropped his bow and arrows. All the Indians 
ran away through the woods at great speed.” 

Little Damaris Hopkins began to cry quietly, 
and Priscilla comforted her, whispering, “Never 
mind, dear; the Indian was not very badly hurt, 
or he could not have run away.” 

“We could not tell how many Indians there 
were,” Captain Miles Standish continued, “though 


The First Encounter 


49 


by their noise we judged them to be thirty or 
forty. We picked up eighteen of their arrows. 
Some of them were headed with brass, some with 
hartshorn, and some with eagle’s claws. We are 



going to send them to England by Captain Jones 
when he returns. Not one of these arrows hit 
us, though they came close. We thanked God 
for our deliverance. We called this place ‘The 


4 


50 


Little Pioneers 


First Encounter,’ because it was here that we 
encountered the Indians face to face.” 

Captain Standish paused. The children sup- 
posed at first that this was the end of his story. 
But looking on the attentive faces of their elders, 
they knew that there was more to follow. 

“We sailed all that day, more than forty miles. 
It snowed, and the sea was rough, and we were 
in great danger. Night came on, and the wind 
increased. Our mast split in three pieces, and 
the shallop was almost wrecked. At last we got 
into a harbor, and sailed near an island, and found 
a good place to anchor. In the morning we 
explored the island. We found it safe from 
Indians. We spent the day exploring it, and 
drying our stuff, and fixing our arms. The next day, 
being the Sabbath, we rested, and gave thanks. 

“On Monday, the eleventh of December, we 
explored. New Plymouth harbor is a bay greater 
than Cape Cod. There is plenty of fowl and shell- 
fish; there must be plenty of cod and other fish. 
There are many brooks, of sweet water and run- 
ning into the sea. The land is good. There are 
trees of all sorts, — pine, walnut, beech, birch, 
hazel, sassafras, holly, and others which we do not 
know. There are cherry trees and plum trees and 
other kinds. There are strawberries, onions, all 
sorts of fruit, and fiax or hemp.” 


The First Encounter 


51 

Captain Standish paused, and looked at the 
women. 

“There is, besides sand and gravel, an excellent 
clay, which will wash pots like soap. There is 
cleared land, and a hill, from whence we can see 
far into the ocean, and on a clear day far along 
Cape Cod. We shall have to go an eighth of a 
mile to get our wood, but that is a small disad- 
vantage. We have at last found a perfect place 
in which to settle.” 

Good Governor Carver rose to his feet. 

“Let us thank God that He has led us to safety,” 
he said. 

Then the pioneers, big and little, held a religious 
service- of thankfulness and rejoicing. 


CHAPTER V 


Home 

T he Mayflower was swinging on her anchor in 
Plymouth Harbor. She lay a mile and a 
half from shore. It was the ninth of January, 
and the little ship had been there since the 
sixteenth of December. During that time the 
men had been busy exploring and deciding on 
the exact spot where the houses should be built. 

The men did not begin to fell timber for the 
houses till Saturday, the twenty- third. They 
worked all day long on Christmas day. It was 
on this day that they began to make what was 
called the common house. It was twenty feet 
square. In this they meant to keep their arms 
and stores. The workers intended to live there 
while they were building the other houses. 

It seemed to the children that the day would 
never come when they should be allowed to leave 
the Mayflower and live on the land; so much time 
had been lost on account of the weather. One 
day it was so rough that the men could not row 
the shallop to shore; sometimes they would spend 
two or three days on shore without going back 
to the Mayflower. Then they would suffer from 


52 


Home 


53 

the cold and the storms, and their work would 
proceed but slowly. 

On this ninth of January some of the children 
were in a corner of the cabin, talking together. 



“/ wish we could see from the ship how the 
building goes on ” 


Several of the men were going on shore to work, 
and were collecting food and warm clothes. 

“I wish we could see from the ship how the 
building goes on,” Bart said. “Then it would 
not be so hard to wait.” 


54 


Little Pioneers 


“Nothing happens on this ship,” grumbled 
John Billington. 

“John,” Love said, “you forget the fine eagle 
Captain Miles Standish shot last Thursday. It 
tasted as good as mutton.” 

“And the next day,” Bart added, “a sailor found 
a herring. I wish we had small hooks that we 
might find more fish.” 

“That is a good lad,” John Alden said, looking 
up from a chest he was unpacking. 

‘ ‘ I could be a very good lad if only I could step 
from the shallop to that great round rock which 
lies near the shore.” 

“We shall all step on it soon,” Priscilla said. 

“And then shall we all be free?” Love asked. 

‘I heard Giles Hopkins say we were not our own 
masters. Shall we be our own masters when we 
are on shore?” 

Mistress Brewster was listening. She knew 
what hardships the children had to meet, and 
almost wished they were all back in England or 
in Holland. She answered Love’s question. 

“You know we are all very poor. Love. Your 
father was rich in Scrooby, in England, but when 
he went to Leiden, in Holland, he worked hard 
at printing.” 

“I remember, and Mr. Bradford made cotton 
cloth, and Resolved White’s father carded wool.” 


Home 


55 


“And I made wooden barrels,” said John Alden. 
“Now I must make houses and dig fields for 
ourselves and our masters in England.” 

“I was about to tell the children about our 
masters in England, as you term them,” said 
Mistress Brewster. 

‘ ‘ I had thought we came here because we 
wanted to worship God in our own way,” said 
Bart. 

“That is true,” answered Mistress Brewster; 
“but it took money to get us and the Mayflower 
ready. As we were very poor, money was 
supplied to us by a number of merchants in 
England. Now we must work in this country to 
pay them back.” 

“How much must we pay?” Love asked. 

Mistress Brewster sighed, and John Alden said : 
“The children should know the truth, for they 
must work as well as we. The terms are hard. 
We are to work for seven years at fishing or 
farming or trading with the Indians. At the end 
of that time we must give half of all we have to 
these merchants in England.” 

“John Alden, we should be thankful for any 
terms,” said Priscilla, reproachfully. 

“Then, shall not the houses we live in be our 
own?” asked Love. “We have always had our 
own house.” 


Little Pioneers 


56 

“Such matters we must settle a little later,” 
John said. “It is agreed that each family shall 
have a house to live in, but must give shelter to 
the unmarried men. We may own our houses 
without cheating the merchants.” 

“Must we give up what our mothers spin and 
weave?” asked Damaris Hopkins. • 

“One half of everything,” said John, “and we 
must work hard every day except Sunday.” 

“But this is much better than working in the 
shops in Leiden,” said Priscilla. “We shall have 
good air to breathe, and plenty of room.” 

“Aye,” said gentle Mistress Brewster; “and 
we must think of the ^reat nation that may spring 
up from this small beginning.” 

“The men are getting into the shallop now,” 
Love said. 

“They are going to lay out the street to-day,’ 
Mistress Brewster told him. “When they come 
back we shall know where each house will stand. 
I like to hear their axes chopping down the trees.” 

“Am I to help build the houses?” asked Bart. 
“You know, John Alden, that I am quick with 
my hands.” 

“Oh, if we could only go with you to-day!” 
Love cried. 

The children had not been idle on the Mayflower. 
Priscilla had given them lessons to study, and 


Home 


57 


their mothers had set them at knitting, boys and 
girls both. Now and then they helped to take 
care of Oceanus Hopkins, and of a still newer 
baby, Peregrine White, Resolved’s little brother. 
There was another baby, a few months old, the 
nephew of good Dr. Fuller. Damaris Hopkins 
was glad there were three babies to play with. 
But all the children wanted a change. 

“It is milder to-day than it has been,” John 
Alden said. “I shall ask the governor if he will 
permit two or three of the boys to land with us.” 

“They ought to come,” said Giles Hopkins. 
“They can fetch and carry for us.” 

Giles was just past the age when he had to 
fetch and carry for grown-up people. Now he 
was sixteen, and doing a man’s work. He carried 
a spade with which he was to help make the 
foundation of a house. He was as proud of it as 
Captain Standish was of his sword. 

John Alden spoke to the governor and Elder 
Brewster, and got permission to take two boys 
on shore. Love and Bart were the two he chose. 
John Billington was not allowed to go because he 
was very mischievous, and John Alden was afraid 
he would fall into the water or be carried off by 
the Indians. 

Love and Bart were so glad to go, and so afraid 
something would happen to keep them back, that 


5 ^ 


Little Pioneers 


they did not say another word till they got into 
the shallop. Then they kept their eyes away from 
their mothers, who leaned, with the other women, 
over the rail. They drew long breaths of relief 
when the oars began to dip into the water, and a 
wide patch of green, choppy waves stretched out 
between them and the Mayflower. 

Love was repeating to Bart his wish that he had 
been the first to step on the great stone which we 
now call Plymouth Rock. Bart said it did not 
matter who touched the rock first, but after they 
reached the rock, and all the men had stepped on 
it and then on the shore, he ran back. He lay 
down flat and touched the whole outer rim of the 
rock, wriggling around in a circle. 

‘ ‘ What are you doing ? They ’ll look behind and 
see you,” Love said. 

“I was touching places on the rock no one else 
touched,” Bart said. ‘‘So I’ve touched more 
of the rock first than you have.” 

John Alden called them. 

“Make haste, boys; no time to-day for idle 
hands,” he said. 

Love and Bart turned from the rock and 
looked at their new home. There was the hill 
of which they had so often heard, from which it 
was possible to look far out to sea. The men had 
been busy there, building a platform for their 


Home 


59 

cannon. The quiet hill had been changed into a 
fortification. 

“Oh, look!” Love cried. “I can see how they 
are going to lay out Leiden Street.” 

“Yes,” John told them; “it is to be fully eight 
hundred yards long, running down to the shore. 
In the middle there will be a cross street. On one 
corner of this will be the governor’s house, and 
on another. Elder Brewster’s house. The cross- 
road will separate the elder’s house from your 
father’s house, Bart. Next to you will be the 
house of John Billing ton’s father. What do you 
think of the common house?” 

How good that house looked to the children! 
The logs had been set upright, side by side in a 
trench, leaving space for a fireplace, a door, and 
two windows. Earth was packed in about the 
logs to keep them upright. A band made of split 
logs was laid along these upright logs, both inside 
and outside, to prevent any from falling. 

“They are going to make a puncheon floor,” 
Baft said. 

“What is a puncheon floor?” asked Love. 

Bart, being proud of his knowledge, replied 
that it was made of logs split in two, with their 
faces smoothed by a broadax. 

“But surely there will be other houses, John 
Alden?” Bart said. 


6o 


Little Pioneers 


“Yes, indeed; we shall have nineteen,” John 
Alden replied. 

But it was many a day before there were 
nineteen houses in Plymouth. 

“It will take a long time to build them,” Love 
said, doubtfully. “Will some of us have to live 
in the Mayflower till they are all built?” 

“The Mayflower will house all the women and 
children and some of the men for many days yet,” 
John Alden replied. “But as soon as three or 
four of the houses are built, we shall live in those.” 

Some of the men, among them John Alden and 
Giles Hopkins, were already at work in the com- 
mon house, while others were on their way to 
the woods. When Love looked at the chapped 
and bleeding hands of John and Giles, he knew 
how hard they must have worked in the frozen 
earth and the frozen forest. 

“Has this common house a stone foundation?” 
Love asked, gazing at the newly placed logs. 

“A stone foundation!” cried Giles. “Love 
Brewster is asking for a stone foundation! Nay, 
then, do you think our houses are going to look 
like Scrooby Manor?” 

But John Alden did not laugh. 

‘ ‘ Some day we shall have stone houses, perhaps, 
but they must be made of logs for years to come. 
Go, boys, to the woods after the men, while Giles 


Home 6 1 

and I make mortar. Do whatever work they 
bid you.” 


The men had already reached the woods, and 
as Bart and Love hurried after them they could 



*‘Has this common house a stone foundation?” Love asked 


hear the sound of ax blows. Soon they saw the 
dark figures of the Puritans among the tree 
trunks. The men had cut down several trees, 
stripped them of branches, and so made logs of 



62 


Little Pioneers 


them. Now they were squaring these logs, with 
their broadaxes. 

“Watch there, child,” called Captain Standish, 
“for you must square many a log before you are 
my age.” 

“Oh, I know how,” said Bart, proudly. “Only 
you are squaring them on two sides, instead of four. 

“Two sides are all we need to fit the logs 
together,” said the captain. 

Then he began to help at dragging the logs by 
ropes and chains to the place where the next 
house was to be built. 

“How large a clearing they have made!” Love 
said. 

The men had destroyed the underbrush and 
had left a clearing many yards square. But it 
was spoiled by jagged stumps, their white tops 
contrasting with the green of the pine trees. 

“Come, boys, to work!” called Captain Stand- 
ish, as he looped a chain around the end of a log. 
“Go to the swamp and gather rushes to thatch 
the common house.” 

Bart Allerton had a knife, but not Love. One 
of the men lent Love a knife and told him not to 
cut his fingers. The boys set off for the swamp. 
They wanted to run, but they were afraid that if 
they did some one would call after them, “More 
haste, less speed.” 


Home 


63 


The rushes were not so pretty as they are in the 
summer time. But the boys did not think of 
their beauty; they only knew that they would 
have to cut all they could as soon as they could, 
so that the house might be thatched as quickly 
as possible. They stood in half-frozen mud and 
water, and cut and hacked at the rushes. Their 
feet grew cold;. the stiff rushes cut their hands, and 
their bodies ached. 

“We’ve got a great pile,” Love said at last. “I 
wish they would let us use some of them for mats. 
I think I could braid a rush mat.” 

“Braided mats!” cried Bart; “nay, that is too 
fanciful work for us pioneers. When we have 
a meetinghouse, and a fort, and a palisade, and 
several houses built, we may think of braided 
mats.” 

“To work again; we are resting too long,” 
Love said. 

So the boys began to cut the rushes once more. 
They were only too glad to do their share of the 
pioneer work. 


CHAPTER VI 


How THE Boys Got Dinner 

I T WAS almost twelve o’clock. Love and 
Bart were staggering down to the common 
house, each with a load of rushes. In the short 
morning there had been great progress in the 
building. 

John Alden and Giles Hopkins had finished 
plastering the crevices between the logs with 
clay mortar. They were now working upon the 
roof. Poles had been laid across it, and they were 
covering these with birch bark. On top of the 
birch bark would be bound the rushes which 
Bart and Love had been working so hard to gather. 

Other men had marked out the lots on which 
the other houses were to be built. The men 
having the largest families were to have the 
largest plots. Bart Allerton’s father had already 
set to work on his house, and Elder Brewster on 
his. It was thought that if each head of a family 
built his own house, the work would get on faster. 

“Boys,” John Alden called down, “you shall 
have a change of work now. Go back to the 
woods and bring all the chips and branches 
you can carry. We are going to have a fire.” 

64 


How the Boys Got Dinner 65 

“Good!” said" Giles Hopkins. “That means 
hot food.” 

“We are to have the two wild ducks Captain 
Standish shot yesterday,” John Alden said. 

Love picked up an Indian basket that lay in a 
corner of the common house. He and Bart went 



The boys gathered three loads of branches 


back to the woods and began to gather branches 
and chips. 

“Pick up pine cones, too,” Love said, “for 
they burn well.” 

The boys gathered three loads of branches and 
three of chips before John Alden was satisfied. 


5 


66 


Little Pioneers 


Then he said : ‘ ‘ Why do you not set about build- 
ing a fire? Love, go to your father, and ask him 
for his tinder box.” 

Love ran off and soon returned with a round 
box. Opening it, John Alden took out a flint, 
a steel, and a piece of linen which was called 
the tinder. 

“Here, Bart,” John said; “I have seen you 
strike fire from flint and steel.” 

Bart took the flint and steel and sat on the 
ground. 

He struck the two together again and again, 
hoping that a spark would fall in the tinder and 
set it on fire. He knew, however, that it might 
be half an hour before he could make fire. Mean- 
while, Love was shaving fine little slivers of wood 
from dry chips. 

He added a few dry oak leaves, which he 
crumbled into a little ,dust heap. Then he sat 
watching Bart. 

“Love,” Giles Hopkins called, “John Alden 
says that we can cook our food, whatever it is, on 
the hearth.” 

The chimney of the common house (so far as 
we know) was what is called a rung chimney. It 
was made of logs laid up crosswise, one upon 
another, and well plastered with clay, inside and 
out. The hearth was of hard -beaten clay. At 


How the Boys Got Dinner 


67 


the back, six feet from the floor, was the back-log, 
in which two hooks had been set. That meant that 
two kettles of food could boil at the same time. 

Bart was still working with flint and steel. 
Suddenly a little spark of fire fell oh the linen. 

“There!” cried Love. “You have struck a 
light at last.” 

They watched the linen slowly flame and 
scorch. Bart shaded it carefully with his hands 
until the tiny slivers of wood caught Are. Soon 
there was a blazing fire. 

“We’ll have to move it to the hearth on a 
shovel,” Bart said. 

John Alden climbed down from the roof of the 
common house. 

“Out of my way, boys,” he cried. “Let me 
pick up the fire.” 

He put the burning chips on a shovel, and 
carried them into the common house. The boys 
followed him through the open door space. Some 
of the men stopped their work to watch John 
Alden building the first hearth Are ever made in 
the new home. Bart and Love added chips, and 
then boughs, to the growing Are. 

Elder Brewster looked in, as he was passing by. 

“That is a cheerful sight,” he said. “When 
we can put a great log in that Areplace, we shall 
know what comfort is.” 


68 


Little Pioneers 


“John Alden,” Love cried, “where did the clay 
come from to ehink the logs?” 

‘ ‘ From the spring your father discovered — 
Pilgrim spring,” John replied. “You and Bart 
may go to the spring this moment. Take the 
big iron kettle which stands outside with our food. 
Fill it with water and bring it baek.” 

The kettle weighed fully twenty pounds. Bart 
and Love carried it between them to the spring, 
which was a beautiftil rivulet running down a 
slope. Blaekberry and strawberry vines grew 
on the banks, and one or two willows drooped 
near by. The boys knelt and drank. They 
thought they had never tasted more delicious 
water. Bart, who was very fond of his sister, 
said, “I must carry some of this to Mary and 
Remember, when we return to the May flower P 

They filled the kettle and earried it back, 
stumbling a little under the weight. As they 
went on, they heard the sound of a shot. When 
they were near the common house they saw 
Captain Standish coming out of the wood. He 
carried his gun under his left arm, and a great 
feathered creature in his right hand. 

‘ ‘ Look men, all ! ” he shouted. ‘ ‘ Our dinner will 
be the best you have tasted for many a day — if 
the lads show skill in cooking.” 

“ ’T is a wild turkey,” said Giles Hopkins. 


How the Boys Got Dinner 


6g 


“Aye! and does not weigh less than twenty 
pounds, as my good right arm can testify,” said 



Captain Standish carried a great feathered creature 
in his right hand 


Miles Standish. “Here, boys, make the most of 
it. Let us see what cooks ye will prove.” 

The men smiled, but Bart, who felt that he was 
chief cook, looked very serious. 


70 


Little Pioneers 


‘ ‘ Let Giles Hopkins hang the kettle on the chain 
and the chain on the hook of the back-log,” he 
said. “I cannot lift so much alone.” 

Giles soon set the kettle swinging above the 
fire. The men went back to their work, while 
Bart took out his strong clasp-knife. 

“See, Love,” he said. “I will cut off the two 
great wings. When they are dried we shall give 
them to our mothers to dust the hearth with.” 

“Perhaps they will serve as brooms, too,” said 
Love. 

“Not unless the women sweep on their knees,” 
Bart said. “We shall find brooms in some way.” 

Bart had some difficulty in cutting off the wings 
of the turkey. Then he took off its head and feet. 

“Now,” he said to Love, “I shall dip it quickly 
in the water, and then we’ll take the feathers off.” 

As soon as the water was hot enough, Bart 
tied a piece of leather string around the legs of 
the turkey, and dropped it in the water with a 
great splash. The hot water dashed over the 
hearth and spattered Love’s doublet. 

“Kettle is too full,” said Bart. “Come, and 
help me take him out.” 

They drew the turkey out and dropped him on 
the earth in front of the hearth. After a few 
moments, they began to pick off the feathers. 
They did this rather awkwardly. 


How the Boys Got Dinner 


71 


“Mother is quick at this,” Bart said. “But 
she never let Mary or me help her, so I am slow.” 



Bart had some difficulty in cutting off the wings 
of the turkey 


“Should we not pour out this water and get 
clear?” asked Love. 

“I suppose we should,” said Bart, “but we 
have not time. The men will be hungry and will 
be sorry they trusted us, if we wait much longer.” 

Bart cut open the turkey, and drew it. Then he 
dipped out mugs of hot. water, and poured them on 
the turkey until it was thoroughly clean. Next he 
cut it up, and dropped the pieces into the kettle. 


72 


Little Pioneers 


“Here is the cover of the kettle,” said Love. 

Bart laughed. 

“You don’t think this is ready, do you?” he 
asked. “We must put salt in. And oh, I have 
a good thought!” 

He ran toward Giles Hopkins. 

“Giles, will you give me the onions you were 
going to eat with your bread?” he asked. 

“What do you want them for?” asked Giles. 
“Must I eat only dry bread?” 

“Do but give them, Giles,” Bart begged. “It 
is for the dish I am cooking.” 

“Take them, then,” said Giles, good-naturedly. 
“I have them here in my doublet.” 

He handed Bart two large onions. 

Bart took them, and he and Love cut them up 
quickly and dropped them into the kettle. 

“Before many minutes, now,” said Bart 
proudly, “the men will be having the first hot meal 
in the common house.” 

Just before Bart thought the turkey was ready 
he said suddenly to Love: “But what will the 
men eat the broth in. Love? We have but two 
mugs here. I suppose they will have to take 
turns.” 

“No, they need not. You shall see!” cried 
Love. He ran down to the shore, and before long 
came back with a pile of large clam shells. 


How the Boys Got Dinner 7j 

“I saw these as we came up,” he said. “They 
will hold many spoons full.” 

“Then we are all ready,” said Bart. He called 
John Alden to lift the kettle off. The men 
stopped working on the roof and descended, 
calling to those who were working on the other 
houses. Love ran for the bread and sea-biscuit, 
while John Alden lifted the kettle down upon the 
hearth. The men from outside entered, and all 
sat near the fire. Elder Brewster said a long 
grace. Then Bart and Love proudly dipped the 
two mugs into the kettle and poured into each clam 
shell a piece of turkey and some broth, and handed 
them to the men. 

“Good!” cried Governor Carver and Miles 
Standish, together, as they tasted the food. 
Elder Brewster and Mr. Allerton looked approv- 
ingly at their boys, but no one thought of praising 
them for what they had done. And they expected 
no praise except the knowledge that they had 
carried out their work well. 

Love thought he had never tasted anything 
better than his first fresh meat in Plymouth, and 
all the others enjoyed the meal. 

Giles Hopkins loudly praised the flavor of his 
onions, while John Alden kept handing back his 
clam shell for more broth. 

After dinner the boys listened to the men, who 


74 Little Pioneers 

discussed further building. The houses well 
started were those of Governor Carver and Elder 
Brewster. They were to be built with the logs 
set horizontally, and cemented with mud and 
clay. They might be roofed with logs, but only 
the governor’s house was to have a puncheon 
floor. 

“Puncheon floors are luxuries,” said Elder 
Brewster. “Our gentle Mistress Carver must 
have one; but the rest of us must be content with 
the earth for a footing.” 

After they had rested sufficiently, the men went 
back to their work. The boys threw the refuse 
away, and washed the pot and clam shells in cold 
sea water. Then they put the pot on one side 
of the hearth and the shells on the other. 

They went to the woods next and carried away 
the broad strips of bark which Captain Miles 
Standish was cutting off the trees for roof building. 
Their bones and muscles ached, but they would 
not say they were tired. At about five o’clock 
the governor called to them. 

“Come, lads,” he said, “you have worked 
enough. Giles Hopkins is going to the ship for 
blankets and other stores for those who will stay 
the night here. Go with him.” 

The boys were glad to go. They walked slowly 
after Giles to the shore, and sat on the sand while 


How the Boys Got Dinner 75 

he made signals to those on board to send the 
small boat. Soon two sailors rowed in to them, 
and they entered the boat, too tired to talk. 
They did not say anything until they reached 
the Mayflower. The little girls, Damaris Hopkins, 
Ellen More, and Mary Allerton, were leaning over 
the rail. Bart began to smile. 

“We were doing their work to-day,” he said. 
“I wonder if they could have made such good 
broth as ours.” 

As they climbed up the sides he called to 
Priscilla, who reached him her hand, “Oh, Pris- 
cilla, Love and I have just cooked the first New 
England dinner.” 

Then the women and children led the way to 
the cabin, and Bart and Love told all the events 
of their wonderful first day in Plymouth. 


CHAPTER VII 


A Memorable Week 

A fter Love and Bart told of their interest- 
ing day on shore the other children wanted 
to know when they could go. The women were 
less impatient, all except Priscilla. 

“I am like the little ones,” she said to John 
Alden. “I grow tired of hearing you men say, 
‘We cannot tell.’ I wish you would say, ‘In one 
week you may come on shore.’” 

When Priscilla spoke, she and John Alden were 
sitting in the cabin with the women and one or two 
men who were too sick to work. The children 
had been sent to play on deck. It was Saturday, 
the thirteenth of January, and John Alden had 
rowed out to the Mayflower to get some ship’s 
biscuit and butter for the men who were building 
the houses. 

“Nay, then,” John answered Priscilla; “no 
man can say what progress we shall make, for 
sickness and weather are against us.” 

Gentle Mistress Brewster sighed heavily. Al- 
ready on the Mayflower sickness and death had 
been at work. Poor food, confinement for so 
long in the close quarters of the vessel, and the 
76 


A Memorable Week 


77 


cold weather, to which the pioneers were unac- 
customed, were the causes of their misfortunes. 

“The sickness will cease if once we can get on 
shore,” Priscilla murmured. 

“That is what we are working for,” John said. 
“Already we have chosen a house that is to be 
used for a hospital. The men who are well are 
working with all speed. Yet so many are sick. 
The floor of the common house is covered with 
beds. They are placed side by side as close as 
they can be. I wish they were only for use at 
night. But already sick men lie in them all day.” 

Mistress Carver sighed. She knew that her 
husband was one of the sick men. 

“Only the day before yesterday,” John Alden 
continued, “Mr. Bradford, who is such a good 
worker, was taken very ill. At first we thought 
he would die. He is better now, but still, we miss 
his strong hands. Yesterday it rained so hard 
after noon that no one could work.” 

“I trust that you have no more ill news to tell 
us,” Priscilla said. 

“Aye, but I have. Yesterday two of the men, 
John Goodman and Peter Browne, went out with 
two other men to cut thatch. When they had 
cut a great deal John and Peter told the other two 
to bind up the thatch in bundles, while they went 
on farther. They were at this time about a mile 


7 ^ 


Little Pioneers 


and a half from the settlement. The other two, 
after a time, followed John and Peter. But they 
could not find them.” 

“Oh!” cried Priscilla, in fear. 

“A searching party went out then, but John 
and Peter were not to be found. This morning 
we called ten or twelve men away from their work, 
for we were afraid that our lost men had been 
taken by the Indians. The search party went 
seven or eight miles. But they found no trace 
of those they sought.” 

Tears stood in the eyes of Mistress Carver. 
The other women also showed their distress. 

“Do not give up hope,” John Alden said; “they 
may yet be found. I may have news, to give 
you of them to-morrow.” 

“Are you coming back here to-morrow, John?” 
Priscilla asked. 

“Nay; but you are coming to us,” John Alden 
said. “Did I not tell you? It has been decided 
that we shall all celebrate the Sabbath on shore, 
since there are more people on shore than on 
the ship.” 

How glad the women and children were to hear 
that! To be keeping the Sabbath on land was 
a proof to them that before long they would be 
spending all the days on land. Another reason 
why they were anxious to go was because they 


A Memorable Week 


79 


knew that the sailors were anxious to have them 
go. They had agreed to take the Pilgrims to 
New England, but not to keep them all winter 
on the Mayflower. 

After John Alden had gone back to shore, the 
children began making plans about what they 
should do next day. When they went to bed 
they could scarcely sleep. Love and Bart awoke 
long before it was light. They lay still for some 
time, and then they dressed quietly, and went 
on deck. 

Here they found great excitement. Several 
sailors, and some of the women, were standing 
close to the rail, looking toward shore. On the 
.shore was a great flaming fire. The boys stared 
intently. 

“Oh, Love,” Bart whispered, “do you see 
what it is?” 

“It is the common house!” Love said. “The 
common house is on fire!” 

Priscilla wrung her hands and wept, though 
the other women on deck stood without a word or 
a tear. 

“Oh,” Priscilla cried, “it is the savages! They 
have found out how few of us there are, and how 
many of our men are sick! They killed John 
Goodman and Peter Browne, and now they have 
gone to the settlement to kill every one else!” 


8o 


Little Pioneers 


“Hush, hush,” said Mistress Brewster. “It 
may not be so bad as you think. But we ought 
to go to the shore at once and find out what has 
happened.” 

The tide was out too far for them to start at 
once. They had some food, and in about three 
quarters of an hour all of them, except those who 
were very sick, took their places in the shallop. 
Even the babies went, Oceanus Hopkins and 
Peregrine White and Samuel Fuller. Little 
Samuel had no mother, and Mistress Carver 
carried him. All the children kept very still as 
the sailors rowed the shallop to shore. Love and 
Bart felt very proud, because they had already 
been on land. 

When they drew closer, they saw that the 
common house was still standing, and that only 
the thatches of the roof had been burned. They 
thanked God that the damage had been no worse. 

The men came down from the common house 
to meet the shallop. Husbands greeted their 
wives and fathers their children. Even the chil- 
dren knew that it was a wonderful occasion. The 
little procession took its way to the common 
house. Nearly all of the beds had been moved, 
so as to make enough floor space. Rough 
benches had been built, and there was a great fire 
on the hearth. After the crowded cabin of the 


A Memorable Week 


8i 


Mayflower, the room seemed large. Best of all, it 
seemed like home. 

When Love and Bart took their seats they saw 
John Goodman and Peter Browne sitting close 
to the fire. They did not dare whisper to each 
other, for religious services were going to be held, 
but they felt glad that the men had not been 
caught by the Indians. Love began to think 
that perhaps the Indians had gone far away. 

When every one was seated Elder Brewster 
began the religious service. It lasted three hours, 
but the little Puritan children were accustomed to 
long prayers and long sermons. They were not 
restless or inattentive. 

After the service was over, some of the women 
began to get dinner about the big hearth. Love 
went quietly up to John Goodman, who was as 
near the fire as he could get. 

“John Goodman,” Love said, “will you not 
tell us what has happened to you, a|id when you 
got back home?” 

“That I will,” John Goodman replied. 

He was a stout, brown-haired, good-natured 
young man, who had always been kind to the 
children. They were sorry that he looked so 
sick, and that his feet were bandaged, and were 
hurting very much. 

Love beckoned to Bart to come, and the other 


6 


82 


Little Pioneers 



They sat on the bench with John Goodman, and listened eagerly 


children followed. They sat on the bench with 
John Goodman, and listened eagerly. 

“Peter Browne and I,” John Goodman said, 
“thought we would go to a new place to search 
for thatch. But as it was dinner time we did not 
set to work at once. We took bread and meat in 
our hands, and went for a walk. We whistled 
to the dogs to come with us.” 

Love and Bart looked at the dogs, a mastiff 
and a spaniel, who were lying on the hearth, well 
out of the way of the women. These were the 


A Memorable Week 


83 


only domestic animals the Puritans had brought 
on the Mayflower. Often Love had wished that 
they were two cows instead of two dogs. 

“We walked a short way,” John Goodman 
continued, “and we found a beautiful little lake. 
While we were admiring it, we saw a great deer 
by the waterside. The dogs at once began to 
chase it, and we followed the dogs. We were so 
interested that we did not notice the way we 
went. After a while, the deer got away from the 
dogs. They came back with their heads and tails 
hanging. When we started to go home, we found 
that we were lost.” 

“Oh,” whispered Damaris Hopkins, “and 
savages were perhaps in the woods!” 

“Aye,” said John Goodman; “we thought of 
that, but not at once. It was still early in the 
afternoon, and we felt sure we could find our way 
back. It was wet, and our clothes were not very 
warm. Then it began to snow. By nightfall 
we were much disturbed. We were cold, we had 
no food, and no weapons but our two sickles, 
with which we had cut thatch. 

“Then we gave up hope of getting back to the 
settlement that night. We began to look for 
Indian wigwams in which we hoped to find shelter. 
We found none. Then we heard a most dreadful 
sound, that terrified us exceedingly.” 


84 


Little Pioneers 


“Indians!” said John Billington, remembering 
the war cry of the savages which Captain Standish 
had told them of. 

“No; lions!” replied John Goodman. 

To-day we know very well that what John 
Goodman and Peter Browne heard were wolves. 
But in those early days the Puritans believed that 
there were both bears and lions in New England. 

“We thought that our only safety would lie 
in climbing trees, if the lions came,” John Good- 
man said. “So we stood each by a tree. We 
had to hold tight to the mastiff, or it would have 
run after the lions. All night long we walked 
up and down under the trees. When light came, 
we began to search again for the settlement. 
We passed by many little lakes, and once we came 
to a plain five miles in length. The savages had 
burned the trees off it, to use :t for planting. We 
were very hungry, but we had to keep on walking. 

“In the afternoon we climbed a high hill. 
Then we were able to see the harbor, and from 
that we could make out the direction to take. 
We began to walk again, and that night we reached 
the settlement. The men were glad to see us. 
They gave us food and drink. They had to cut 
off my boots, for my feet were swollen with the 
cold. It will be some days before I shall be of 
much use in the building.” 


A Memorable Week 85 

“Were you lying in the common house when the 
thatch caught fire?” Damaris asked. “For if 
you were, you must have jumped up on your 
feet.” 

“Nay, little maiden,” John Goodman answered. 
“I was snug and warm in the house Mr. Hopkins 
and his son Giles are building. It was Mr. 
Carver and Mr. Bradford who lay sick in the 
common house. Some one had just built the 
fire for them, and had then gone out. A spark 
flew out of the chimney and fell on the thatch.” 

“One little spark!” Love said. 

“Aye; Mr. Carver and Mr. Bradford lay with 
powder near them. If they had not risen hastily 
they would have been blown up. There were 
several muskets charged with powder lying in the 
house. But we got the fire stopped. God has 
been merciful to us.” 

The Puritans were thankful for all their mercies. 

“It is a blessing that our settlement is so nearly 
ready,” Love said to Bart. 

“Yes,” Bart said; “this has been a good week 
for us. Love. It has been the best week since 
we left England, for now I can see for myself 
how much work has been done. I know that in 
a few days nobody will be left on the Mayflower 
except the sailors.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


How THE Pioneers Kept House 

I T WAS a cold February day when all the 
Puritans, except a few who were sick, left the 
Mayflower and stepped upon Plymouth Rock, and 
then upon the hard beach. All their stores had 
been moved from the ship to the common house. 

“I think,” Priscilla said to Mistress Brewster, 
“now that we have parted from the Mayflower 
we have cut our last tie with our English home.” 

Priscilla had seen many fine houses and beau- 
tiful streets. Yet Leiden Street now seemed 
beautiful to her. There were but five finished 
houses, including the common house. The tallest 
was no more than fourteen feet high. The 
doors were not set in, and for window panes they 
had only oiled paper. But Priscilla would not 
have changed them for a palace, and neither 
would the children. 

Bart and Love knew where their houses were. 
Love pointed out his to his brother Wrestling. 
The brothers would have liked to run ahead and 
enter it, but they followed their parents quietly 
inside. The ground floor of the little house was 
divided into two rooms, one to be used as a 
86 


How the Pioneers Kept House 87 

kitchen and living room, the other as a bedroom. 

“See what a fine large hearth we have,” Love 
said to Wrestling, “and some one has built us 
a good' fire.” 

Mistress Brewster smiled at her husband. 

“You have done very well for us,” she said. 
“See, children, see our fine table, our bench, and 
the two stools and the cupboard.” 

The table was merely two boards, fastened 
together and set on a pair of roughly made 
trestles. The cupboard had only three rough 
shelves. The bench was without a back; the 
two stools were clumsily made. 

“Where does the ladder in the corner lead to?” 
Wrestling asked. 

“To the loft, .to be sure,” Mistress Brewster 
answered; “and there Priscilla and two or three 
of the other young maidens will sleep.” 

“Then are Wrestling and I to sleep in the 
kitchen?” asked Love. 

“Nay, then, come into the bedroom,” Elder 
Brewster said, “and you shall see.” 

The boys had never seen a bed like that their 
father showed them. Two sides of it were formed 
by the logs of the wall, the other two sides by two 
boards, supported by tree stumps. Across this 
frame, on top, slender boards were laid, much 
like modern bed slats. 


88 


Little Pioneers 


“When my big feather bed is laid on that, we 
shall be comfortable,” said Mistress Brewster, 
cheerfully. 

In the back of the room was another such bed 
built into the logs. It was spread with balsam 
boughs. 

“See what a fragrant bed you and Wrestling 
will have,” Elder Brewster said to Love. “We 
shall cover it with thick quilts, and hang a thick 
curtain before it.” 

Wrestling began ' to smile. He thought he 
should like to sleep on balsam boughs. 

“There are no pegs or hooks for our clothes, 
father,” Love said. 

“No, child, those will come later. For the 
present we must keep our things in the chests.” 

“Now, lads, you must be sons and daughters 
both to-day, and help me put the house in order,” 
said Mistress Brewster. 

“I hear the men carrying the chests into the 
kitchen,” said Love. “Are we to unpack the 
dishes?” 

“Aye, and make the beds, and do many other 
duties.” 

They went back to the kitchen and looked at 
the three big chests which John Alden and Giles 
Hopkins had just carried in. 

“I shall soon bring in the elder’s armchair,” 


How the Pioneers Kept House 8g 

said John Alden, “and your spinning wheel, 
Mistress Brewster.” 

“When you have time, Mistress Brewster,” said 
Giles eagerly, “come and see my stepmother’s sew- 
ing table. ’T is made from the prettiest stump in 
New England. I tramped the woods well to find it. ’ ’ 

“I shall come,” said Mistress Brewster. 

The young men went away, and Mistress 
Brewster and the boys set to work. They carried 
a big feather bed into the bedroom, and a smaller 
one upstairs to the loft. They laid the clothes to 
air on boards outside the house. Love took out 
the pewter plates and spoons and mugs, and 
Wrestling polished them with a soft cloth. 

“Oh, mother,” cried Love, “I have found our 
beautiful silver sugarpot ! Now we shall have two 
pretty things in our house — father’s chair and 
your sugarpot.” 

“Mistress Carver has a chair and a sugarpot, 
and a carved footstool, and some silver porringers,” 
said Wrestling. “I saw them. Mother, I wish 
we had a great carved settle, and a splendid clock.” 

“Some day we shall have them,” said Mistress 
Brewster. “But what we need more are cows 
and sheep and pigs.” 

Just then Priscilla entered. 

“I have been helping Mistress Carver,” she 
said, “though perhaps my place was here with you. 


QO 


Little Pioneers 


dear Mistress Brewster. Have you needed me?” 

“I am glad you helped her; she is not strong,” 
said Mistress Brewster heartily. “Now you may 



Love took out the pewter plates and spoons and mugs 


help me put up the curtains and get your chest 
up the ladder.” 

Lack-a-day ! Look at the floor ! How untidy 
we have made it,” cried Priscilla. 


How the Pioneers Kept House gi 

“An earthen floor will be a trial to me,” said 
Mistress Brewster. “But at least I shall have it 
neatly sanded. Go, Love, run to the shore and 
bring me a pail of sand.” 

Love took the pail, which had no handle, and 
hurried off. At the door he met Bart, who had 
been sent on a similar errand. 

“John Alden is going to the woods to find 
brooms for the women,” Bart said, as they ran 
against the wind. “He told me we could help 
if we could be spared.” 

When Love returned with the sand he found that 
Captain Standish had just left a fine piece of 
venison. He had killed a deer, and all the pioneers 
were to share it. Priscilla was cutting some of 
the meat into pieces, and dropping them into the 
iron pot swinging over the fire. 

“Yes, you may go with John Alden,” Mistress 
Brewster said, when Love asked permission. 
“Priscilla and I do not need you. But see that 
you are not late to dinner.” 

Love ran away and hurried after John Alden, 
who was already on his way to the woods. His 
sturdy figure looked very tall. 

“I don’t think we need be afraid of Indians 
when we have such strong men as Captain Stand- 
ish and John Alden to protect us,” said Love. 

“And such good men as Governor Carver and 


92 


Little Pioneers 


your father at home to offer prayers,” Bart said. 
For the Puritan child often spoke of his trust 
in God. 

John Alden waited for them. 

“Well, lads,” he said, “how goes the house- 
keeping? We unmarried men in the common 
house are well off. Mistress Billington is going 
to take care of us, and is cooking a fine dinner.” 

“My mother has all our house furnishings 
unpacked,” Love said. 

“Our best wooden trencher is broken,” Bart 
said. “I am to make a new one.” 

“Aye,” said John; “there will be work for all 
of us with our clasp-knives. Come; now that 
we are in the woods we must seek a big hemlock 
tree.” 

They soon found a hemlock tree whose branches 
were thick with foliage. John Alden chopped 
off some of the thickest. Then he bound a bunch 
together closely and tied it at the top with hempen 
twine. The boys tried, but they could not tie 
the branches tightly enough. , 

“See,” John said; “each is fully two or three 
feet tall.” 

“They will be splendid brooms,” Bart said. 
“But what do you do for a handle?” 

“You shall make the handle. Find me five 
straight, strong boughs, not less than three feet 


How the Pioneers Kept House pj 

long. Meantime, if you see any good pine knots, 
pick them up.” 

The boys searched, but it was some time 
before they found suitable boughs. They picked 
up plenty of pine knots, however. By this time 
their hands were very cold, and they were glad 
when John said they must finish their work in the 
common house. They walked slowly under their 
burdens of hemlock and pine. When they 
entered the house they found it full of noise and 
apparent confusion. Men were carrying stores 
into the loft. Mistress Billington was cooking 
on the hearth, talking loudly to all who would 
listen. John Billington and his brother Francis 
were very busy in a comer. 

“I wonder what they are doing?” Bart said. 

But he did not go to see, for he wanted to finish 
the brooms. Putting the handles on was a simple 
matter. They whittled the end of each of the 
straight, strong boughs until it had a sharp, firm 
point. Then John Alden drove the point well 
into the bound portion of the twigs. 

“There, then; five good brooms,” he said. 
“Take yours. Love, and one also for Mistress 
Carver.” 

“But what are the pine knots for?” Love asked. 

“Ah, I had forgotten them,” John said. “But 
they have nothing to do with the brooms. We 


94 


Little Pioneers 


shall use them instead of candles or lamps. The 
resin in them makes a fine blaze, and a fine odor.” 

Love and Bart looked with great interest at the 
pine knots. 

“Your father will write many a sermon by 
that light, Love,” John Alden said. “And by 
this light you and Bart will study your arithmetic 
and Latin.” 

Bart did not like to study very much. 

“The men are so busy,” he said, “and the 
women, too. We shall not have a school for a 
long time.” 

“You had better not be too sure,” John said.* 
“Elder Brewster will take you for the Latin, and 
Priscilla will teach the other studies.” 

Bart gave a long sigh. Then he said: “I 
don’t see the use of Latin in a new country. If 
we can’t have fine clothes and carved spinnets 
such as we had in England, why do we need a 
dead language?” 

“Because you must be educated men,” John 
said. “The future of New England depends on 
the young boys of this colony. Make the most 
of yourselves, that you may make the most of 
our country.” 

Just then John Billing ton ran up. He had 
wanted Bart to ask him what he was doing. Now 
he could not keep his secret any longer. 


How the Pioneers Kept House p5 

“I’ve been making something better than 
brooms ! ’’ he shouted. ‘ ‘ Don’t you want to see ? ’’ 



He danced up and down, holding something 
behind him. Then he showed them what was 
in his hands. 

He had taken a small clam shell, and put the 




Little Pioneers 


flattest end of it between the parts of a split 
stick, thus making a spoon. 

“Now that is a good idea,” said John Alden 
“in case our stock of spoons runs low.” 

“Come, men; it’s dinner time,” called Mistress 
Billington. 

“Run home with the brooms, boys,” said John 
Alden. “I hope I have not made you late to 
dinner.” 

The boys ran with all their might. They well 
knew that they would be punished if they were 
late. Bart reached his house in time, but at 
Love’s they were all seated about the table. 

“I beg your pardon, father,” said Love. 

“You are beginning life in the new colony 
badly,” said Elder Brewster, severely. “Your 
mother bade you be here on time. Stand, now, 
and eat, while we are at table. After dinner 
you shall have full punishment.” 

Priscilla and Wrestling looked sorry for Love; 
but they did not speak to him. Elder Brewster 
and his wife sat together on the bench at one side 
of the table; Priscilla and Mary Chilton sat on 
a chest at the end; and Wrestling had a stool on 
the side opposite his parents. Love stood silently 
beside Wrestling, with his eyes downcast. Still, 
he thought, he might be worse off; the last time 
he had been punished he had had no dinner. 


How the Pioneers Kept House gy 

The table was spread with a white linen cloth. 
The venison stew Priscilla had made was in a big 
pewter dish in the middle of the table. There 
was a pewter plate containing bread, and a round 
pewter dish containing salt, and five pewter 
drinking mugs. Elder Brewster and his wife ate 
out of a wooden trencher about twelve inches 
square. Priscilla and Mary Chilton ate from 
another, while Love and Wrestling shared the 
third. Love often wished that he could have a 
trencher all to himself. He thought that he would 
ask John Alden to show him how to make them. 
Then he would make six for the family. 

They ate the savory stew with knives and 
spoons, for no one in Plymouth had a fork. Love 
held a piece of meat in a napkin in his left hand, 
and cut it into small pieces with the knife. Some- 
times he put the end of his knife with meat on 
it into his mouth. Sometimes he put the small 
pieces of meat back in the trencher and ate them 
with a spoon. He wiped his greasy little fingers 
on his napkin many times. 

After dinner Love stood waiting to know what 
his further punishment was to be. Elder Brew- 
ster thought of sending him to bed, but he was 
afraid it was too cold in the bedroom. Finally 
he forbade Love to speak to any. one till supper 
time, or to play any games. 


7 


98 


Little Pioneers 


It was hard for Love not to speak to Bart. 
They went to the forest to get firewood and more 
» pine knots. Bart told Love all about the duck 
his father had shot and had hung by a string 
over the fire. Then Remember had twisted the 
string and the duck had turned round and round, 
and so slowly cooked. 

Love wanted to ask if the gravy had not all 
run into the fire. He wanted to know if Bart had 
plucked the duck. It seemed he had never before 
thought of so many questions to ask. But he kept 
his lips screwed tight together. He did not even 
open them when John Billington teased him. 

After the boys had collected firewood until 
they were too cold to stay out any longer, they 
went home. Mistress Brewster gave Love some 
knitting to do. After that it was soon supper 
time, and then Love could speak. 

When supper was over, Elder Brewster offered 
a long prayer. Love knelt by his little stool with 
his eyes shut. He felt that he ought to be very 
thankful for shelter and food. It never occurred 
to him to wish for more comforts; like the older 
pioneers, he was grateful for bare necessities. 

Then Elder Brewster let the boys light two 
pine knots at the fire. They blazed up finely. 
The elder left one on the hearth, and put the other 
on the table. 


How the Pioneers Kept House 


99 


“Wife, I shall write a sermon to-night,” he said. 

Love and Wrestling crouched over the hearth 
at their mother’s feet. Their faces were pink 
with heat, but their backs were cold. They 
turned around, warming first one side and then 
the other. 

“Just like the duck Remember cooked,” said 
Love. 

“Now, this is strange,” Elder Brewster said; 
“here am I a few feet from the fire, and yet the 
ink freezes on my pen.” 

“Come to the fire, father,” begged Love. 
“Your face looks cold.” 

“Aye, the house is not so warm as I could 
wish,” said the elder. “But it must do.” 

“Some day we may have a stone house, like 
Scrooby Manor,” said Love. 

“Perhaps, perhaps. But go to bed, children. 
You must be up betimes in the morning.” 

Love and Wrestling bade their parents good 
night, and went to their bed of balsam. And so 
ended their first day of housekeeoing in New 
England. 


CHAPTER IX 


The Bitter Winter 



HE hearts of the pioneers were very sad 


X during that first winter. They tried to be 
thankful for their blessings. But their food was 
poor and scanty; they had no milk, and little 
butter. They had not good means for fish- 
ing. The wind blew into their houses and made 
them cold. There was much sickness, and many 
deaths. Sometimes as many as two and three 
people died in one day. 

Even the children felt the sadness, and they 
tried to be as helpful as they could. John Alden 
and Priscilla showed them cheerful faces, for they 
did not want them to understand how badly off 
the colony was. Priscilla made the best of all 
that happened. 

One day, when they were all rather short of 
meat, the wild geese came. Priscilla was on the 
sands playing hop-scotch with the children. 
They had marked off the squares with a sharp 
stick and had chosen a big purple pebble to kick. 
Mary Allerton was the best at the game. She 
was just reaching “home,” and beating every 
one else, when John Billington shouted and made 


100 


The Bitter Winter 


lOI 


her stumble. He was pointing up in the sky. 

“Look!” he cried. “What can that be flying 
there?” 

It looked like a black V in the sky, coming 
nearer and nearer. Soon the V became looser, and 
they saw that it was made of fowl of some sort. 

“Let us run to John Alden,” said Love. “This 
may mean food.” 

John Alden and Captain Jones were coming 
down to the beach. The captain had a fowling 
piece. 

“Wild geese,” said John to the children. 
“Now we’ll have fresh meat, and some goose oil 
to rub on your throats at night when you get 
cold.” 

The birds looked so beautiful, circling above 
them against the blue sky, that Love hated to 
see them shot. But he knew the Puritans had 
to have food. Captain Jones fired, and the geese 
set up a wild “honk, honk.” They flew away in 
a scattered group, and five dropped swiftly 
downward. Three of these fell into the water. 

John Alden waded in after them without 
stopping to take off his shoes and stockings. 

“Five geese!” cried Love and Bart. 

“And enough feathers to make a fresh pillow 
for Mistress Carver’s armchair,” said John Alden. 

Captain Jones said that the geese must be used 


102 


Little Pioneers 


for the sick people. The children helped to pluck 
them. To them the coming of the geese was 
very exciting, and it took their minds from some 
of the sad events which had happened. 

A day or two later, something else occurred. 
John Alden called them together, and told them 
to get half a dozen pails and some spades. 

“None of you boys are big enough to shoot 
geese,” he said. “You’ll be fourteen or fifteen 
before you can be trusted with guns. But you 
can get us food in other ways. So come with me.” 

“Oh, I know,” said John Billington; “we are 
going clam digging.” 

He felt a particular interest in clams since he 
had made the clam shell spoons. Soon John and 
the children set off down the beach, a sober little 
procession. But if their clothes were dark, their 
eyes were bright, and their cheeks red. 

The tide was very low. John led them out a 
long way on the sands. Then he let Bart and 
Love dig, while the other children watched. The 
two boys dug slowly, for the sand was heavy with 
water. At first they could see no sign of clams. 

“I don’t believe there are any clams here,” 
said John Billington. 

“Yes; look here!” John Alden said, as he held 
up a muddy looking object on his spade. Then he 
dropped it into a pail. 


The Bitter Winter 


103 

‘ ‘ That ! ’ ’ cried Remember Allerton ; ‘ ‘ that dirty 
thing! It looks like muddy leather.” 

‘ ‘ Did you expect the clam shells to be clean and 
white?” asked John Alden. “You will have to 



pretty to look at.” 

“Hi, hi! I have one,” cried John Billington, 
who had begun to dig. The children ran about 


104 


Little Pioneers 


him, and then began to laugh. He dug as fast as 
he could, but the clam dug faster. It burrowed 
down into the sand, and presently was out of sight. 

“You must be quick if you want to beat the 
clam at his own game,” said John Alden. “Now 
then, try again, John.” 

Before the six pails were filled, they had all 
had a turn. 

“The girls must know how as well as the boys,” 
John Alden said. “They will have to help dig 
kitchen gardens, and perhaps flower gardens, next 
summer.” 

When the pails were almost full John Alden said, 
“These are heavy. We shall need sticks to carry 
them, two and two.” 

The pails were made of wood, or iron, without 
handles. On each side of each pail was a little 
ear, with a hole in it. Through these ears a stick 
could be thrust, to serve as a handle. 

Wrestling and Remember went off to get slender 
sticks. By the time they returned to the clam 
bed the pails were full. 

They all reached Leiden Street just about the 
time the women were thinking of getting dinner. 
Bart made his share of the clams into a thick stew. 
Priscilla roasted the clams for the Brewster family 
and served them with a dressing of pepper and 
salt and butter. Mistress Brewster shook her 


The Bitter Winter 




head when she saw Priscilla using the butter. 

“We have so little of that, my child,” she said. 

“But, dear Mistress Brewster,” Priscilla said, 
“I want a little treat for the boys. After to-day 
they may eat their clams without butter.” 

“You are kind to all the children, Priscilla,” 
Mistress Brewster said. 

“It is hard for them in this new country,” 
Priscilla returned. “I like to keep their minds on 
pleasant things.” 

It was Priscilla who gave the children still 
another bit of excitement. Mistress Hopkins 
had come in to see Mistress Brewster, and was 
lamenting that they were not able to preserve 
any fruits or nuts in the new country. 

“To be sure, we came too late in the year,” 
said Mistress Hopkins. “Yet home hardly seems 
like home without a day for pickling.” 

“In Scrooby Manor,” said Mistress Brewster, 
“we did much preserving. I have pickled many 
a jar of samphire and purple cabbage, and nastur- 
tium buds, and barberries.” 

‘ ‘ But, ’ ’ cried Priscilla, who loved to do housework 
of all sorts. “Why can we not pickle some fish?” 

“Nay, our men have such bad luck with fish- 
ing,” answered Mistress Brewster. “They catch 
hardly enough fish for us to eat.” 

It was true. Though John Alden and others of 


io6 Little Pioneers 

the men had gone out in the shallop and fished 
patiently, they caught hardly anything. This 
was not strange, for they were not used to their 
work. Besides, they were poorly supplied with 
fishing tackle. They had no cod hooks and no 
herring nets, and very few lines. 

Yet the seas and rivers of this new world were 
teeming with fish. This fish was destined to bring 
more wealth to the future colonists than furs, or 
crops, or any other produce, but for this first 
year the pioneers had little success at fishing. 
More than once John Alden had seen the codfish 
leap into the air almost within reach of his hands, 
yet he was unable to get them on his lines. 

“But if we cannot preserve fish, there must be 
something else to preserve,” Priscilla said. 

At that moment John Alden came in to tell 
them that Miles Standish and Mr. Allerton had 
killed five deer. 

Priscilla clapped her hands. 

“Ah, now, now,” she said, “we can get out our 
powdering tub and powder the deer.” 

To “powder” meant to salt and pickle. 

“That is a good thought,” said John Alden; “for 
there is no telling when we shall see deer again.” 

So after the deer were skinned and made 
ready, the women and children and John Alden 
went to the common house, and did the first 


The Bitter Winter 107 

pickling. It was very simple work. Water was 
put in tubs and salt added until a thick brine 
was made. Then the meat was cut up, put inside, 
and covered with wooden covers. 

Mistress Brewster hung two strips of venison 
high up in the chimney to see if they could be 
smoked, but they burned. 

John Alden looked on and gave advice, at which 
the women and even the little girls smiled. 
Damaris and Ellen and Mary were delighted, 
however, when he suggested preserving the 
walnuts he had found one day in the woods. 

“Pickle some, and candy some,” he said. 
“Surely we can spare that much sugar, especially 
as there are maple trees hereabout, and we can 
get sap in the spring.” 

Sometimes Mistress Brewster and Priscilla tried 
to teach the children, but not regularly; there 
was so much work for which their hands were 
needed. Besides, there was so much illness and 
death. In February alone, seventeen of the 
settlers died. In December and January fourteen 
persons had died. Bart Allerton’s mother had 
died, and Priscilla Molines’ father, and Rose 
Standish, the wife of Captain Miles Standish, and 
the little baby, Oceanus Hopkins. 

They were all buried in the graveyard on the 
top of Cole’s Hill. The graves were concealed. 


io8 


Little Pioneers 


for the pioneers did not want the Indians to 
suspect how many people they had lost. More 
than once the Indians had come very near to the 
settlement. The pioneers thought they were 
growing very bold. With all their enemies — the 
Indians, cold, insufficient food, sickness, and death 



Sometimes Priscilla tried to teach 
the children 


— these first Americans needed all their courage. 

At one time there were only seven well persons 
in the whole settlement. Elder Brewster and 
John Alden were two of these. How hard they 


The Bitter Winter log 

worked, making broth for the sick, washing them, 
and comforting them! It was a sad time for 
every one. Long afterwards, when Love Brewster 
was a grown man, living in a warm house and 
with plenty of food and medicine, he could not 
look back to that first year without pain. 

Elder Brewster did not spare himself, or Love, 
who was well enough to help. His father did not 
let Love watch by the sick, but he sent him out 
constantly to see what was wanted at the different 
houses. Love worked with all his might. He 
helped sad-eyed Priscilla cook food for the suf- 
ferers ; he carried spadefuls of fire to hearths where 
the fire had gone out. He dug clams all alone, 
for Bart was very sick. Love’s little arms ached, 
with the numberless pails of water he carried. 
He never complained, and he was always brave, but 
it seemed to him that the winter would never end. 

One day in March, when the sick were getting 
better and the sun was shining, his mother told 
him to go out to play. He went to the woods, 
and there, under the very first tree he looked at, 
was a tiny patch of green. The weight seemed 
to fall from his little heart. He ran back to 
Mistress Brewster and to Priscilla. 

“Oh, mother, the spring is come!” he said. 
“And father said if the spring came soon, our 
colony would be saved!” 


CHAPTER X 


Friendly Visitors 

I T WAS the sixteenth of March. Love and 
Bart had gone out to see if it was warm 
enough to take off their shoes and stockings 
“I fear not,” Bart said. “And yet I scarcely 
dare walk in my shoes. I think every minute 
that they will fall to pieces.” 

“John Alden says that when autumn comes, 
and the harvest is gathered, he will make us shoes,” 
Love said. “He will do it, since he has promised 
to, and yet he is no shoemaker.” 

“Nor was he a house builder,” Bart said; “and 
yet he has helped make houses.” 

“I suppose he will make the shoes of deerskin,” 
Love said. “We have many dried deerskins.” 

“Perhaps he will make us moccasins, such as 
the Indians wear,” Bart replied. 

Just at, that moment they both looked up 
Leiden Street, and there was an Indian striding 
down the hill. He was very tall, and he carried 
a bow about as tall as himself. Twisted in his 
hair were eagle feathers, and round his waist 
was a deep girdle of buckskin. 

Love and Bart stared at him a moment, and 


no 


Friendly Visitors 


III 


then they ran to the common house. They burst 
open the door, interrupting an informal council of 
their elders. ‘ ‘ Oh, father ! Oh, Governor Carver ! ’ ’ 
cried Love. “An Indian! An Indian!” 



“Child! this is no way to enter,” said Elder 
Brewster, sternly. 

Governor Carver strode to the door, and opened 
it. The Indian was coming down past the other 
houses, straight to the common house. 

“It is indeed an Indian,” the governor said. 


1 12 


Little Pioneers 


*‘We must not let him in this house, to see how 
few we are in number. If the Indians knew our 
weakness, they would attack us.” 

“He may come into my house,” Mr. Hopkins 
said. “I have more room than any one else.” 

“Let us greet this man in all kindness,” the 
'governor said. “Even if he does not understand 
English, he will understand gestures of peace.” 

The body of men went down the street toward 
the Indian. To their great surprise he addressed 
them in English. 

“Welcome; welcome to the white men,” he said. 

The pioneers were very glad to hear these kindly 
words from the Indian. They did not at once ask 
him into the house of Mr. Hopkins. One by one 
the other Puritans came out of their houses, and 
joined the group about the Indian. Love and 
Bart stood as near him as they dared. They felt 
as if they had discovered him, and they were not 
at all afraid of him. 

“What is your name?” the governor asked. 

“Samoset.” 

Love and Bart and all the children thought 
that Samoset was a pretty name. 

“Do you live near here?” was the governor’s 
next question. 

Samoset made gestures to show that he lived 
very far away. 


Friendly Visitors iij 

“I go in my canoe for one day,” he said, “and 
then for five days on the land.” 

Priscilla whispered to John Alden that she 
wished all the Indians were as far away as that. 

“I am cold,” Samoset said, shivering a little. 

John Alden took off his coat, and put it around 
the Indian. Samoset did not thank him, but he 
looked pleased. Then the governor said: “Let 
our Indian brother come into one of our houses.” 

Governor Carver led the way to the house of 
Mr. Hopkins. %At this Love and Bart looked 
disappointed. They knew that the house would 
not hold very many people, and that they would 
not be allowed to enter. 

“Come here. Love,” called Elder Brewster, 
as the little group of people followed the governor 
and Samoset. 

“Yes, father?” Love said, hastening to Elder 
Brewster. 

“Go you to the common house, and get some- 
thing for this Indian to eat.” 

“Yes, father,” Love replied. “May not Bart 
come with me? The Indian looks as if he would 
eat more than one boy could carry.” 

“Go, then, Bart,” said the elder. 

Bart and Love hastened away, and the other 
children watched them enviously. All the men 
went into Mr. Hopkins’ house, but the women. 


8 


Little Pioneers 


114 

except Mistress, Hopkins, returned to the other 
houses, content to hear at second hand what 
the Indian had to say. Even Damaris did not 
go inside; her mother sent her to stay with 
Mary Allerton. 

Governor Carver sat on a bench in the Hopkins’ 
kitchen, and Samoset sat beside him. Samoset 
did not always understand what was said to him, 
but he did his best to talk. 

“You are the only Indian who has visited us,” 
said Governor Carver. “Why is that? Are 
they afraid?” 

“No, we are not afraid,” Samoset answered. 
“But the Indians who used to live here are all 
gone.” 

“Do you mean they have gone westward?” 
asked the governor. 

Samoset was about to answer, but just then 
Love and Bart entered, each bearing a pewter plate 
of cold duck, biscuit, cheese, butter, and pudding. 
The boys slipped into a comer and stood as still 
as mice, fearing they should be sent away. But 
they were not. 

Samoset took the food and silently ate it. 
The pioneers were eager to have him go on talking, 
but he did not speak until he had finished the 
last crumb. Then he said: “I do not speak much 
English. But I will try to tell you. The Indians 


Friendly Visitors 


115 

here were very many, like the sands on the beach. 
Then came a great sickness. It swept them 
away, as the water sweeps the sands.” 

“And so they died?” said the governor, gravely. 
“All but a few, and those went away. They 
left these good lands because they were afraid.” 
The pioneers looked at each other. Samoset’s 



Love and Bart entered, each hearing a pewter plate 


news meant a great deal to them. It meant that 
there was no one to dispute their possession of the 
land they had taken. It meant that they could 
sow their crops in peace. 

“When we first came,” Governor Carver said, 
“some Indians shot arrows at us, and might have 
killed us . I trust they did not belong to your tribe . ’ ’ 


ii6 Little Pioneers 

“Those were the Nausites,” Samoset replied. 

‘ ‘ They are angry with all the Englishmen because 
of a wrong a wicked man named Captain Hunt 
did them. He stole some of their men and sold 
them for slaves. The chief of my tribe is called 
Massasoit. He wants to be friends with you. 
He has sixty men. The Nausites have a hundred 
m^.” 

Here was both good news and bad news. The 
Pilgrim fathers talked all afternoon with Samoset. 
They would have been glad to have him go at 
night, but he wanted to stay. They thought they 
would lodge- him on the Mayflower. He was 
willing, and he and some of the men set out in the 
shallop. But the wind was high, and the tide 
low, and they could not get to the ship. So 
Samoset was lodged in the house of Mr. Hopkins, 
and two men watched all night to see that he did 
no harm. 

The next morning, Saturday, the seventeenth 
of March, the pioneers sent Samoset away. They 
gave him as presents a knife, a bracelet, and a 
ring. He promised to come soon again, bringing 
with him some of Massasoit ’s men, and such 
beaver skins as they had to trade. 

The children were very much excited after 
Samoset had gone. 

“Did you see how swiftly he walked?” Love 


Friendly Visitors 777 

asked Bart, as they watehed the Indian disappear- 
ing into the woods. 

“Yes,” replied Bart, “and while he was here 
he looked at everything. His eyes glanced like 
a bird’s.” 

“He is friendly, at any rate,” was what all the 
elders said. 

The very next day Samoset returned with five 
other Indians. They wore leggings and deer- 
skin clothes, and the chief had a wildcat’s skin 
on one arm. Their hair hung long and was 
dressed with feathers, or else with fox tails. Their 
faces were painted in various colors. They left 
their bows and arrows a quarter of a mile from 
the settlement, to show that they were friendly. 

The children were very much interested in the 
Indians, especially when they sang and danced. 
The Indians brought some corn, pounded to 
powder, which they ate, mixed with water. The 
pioneers gave them food, of which they ate 
freely. Some of them smoked tobacco, and this 
interested the children, who had never seen pipes 
in use before. 

The visitors brought furs with them, but as 
it was Sunday the Pilgrim fathers would not 
trade. The Indians went away, all except Sam- 
oset, who said he was sick. They said they 
would come back in a day or two. On Wednesday 


Ii8 Little Pioneers 

the Pilgrim fathers sent Samoset after the other 
Indians. 

Love and Bart now expected Indians at any 
moment. On Thursday they saw Samoset coming 
down the hill with four Indians, all walking in 
single file. The one just behind Samoset was 
very tall and graceful. He wore deerskin clothes, 
long feathers in his hair, and a necklace of bears’ 
claws about his neck. Samoset said his name was 
Squanto. All the children liked him at once, 
though they did not realize then what a good 
friend he would be. 

The Indians carried some skins and dried 
herrings. They stood in Leiden Street, trying 
to talk by signs and by such English words as 
they knew. Squanto could say more than any 
one else. 

“My friend,” Governor Carver said, “how 
come you to speak such good English?” 

A shadow crossed Squanto ’s face. Then he 
began to tell the story of the heartless Captain 
Hunt. 

“There was a wicked man,” he said, “who 
came here once. He took twenty-four of our 
tribe, and put us in a big ship. The big water 
tossed us many moons. When we stopped at 
England, I jumped into the water and swam away.” 

“And the others?” 


Friendly Visitors 


iig 


‘‘I do not know,” said Squanto. “The people 
in England said the wicked man had sold my 
brothers in Spain. I do not know.” 

“And you stayed in England, and learned the 
language?” 

“Yes. Then I came back on a big ship and 
landed to the southward. I traveled many days 
north before I found my tribe.” 

“You were badly treated,” said the governor. 
“The wicked man should be punished.” 

“My tribe had been good to him, and they were 
very angry. For some years they killed all the 
Englishmen they could find.” 

The governor shook his head. “That was 
wrong,” he said. 

“But they will not kill you,” Samoset said. 
“The Indians will be good to you. We have 
brought back some tools that your men left in 
the woods.” 

A month before. Captain Miles Standish and 
another man had been cutting trees and had 
left their tools all night in the woods. In the 
morning they had disappeared. The pioneers 
were glad to have them back. 

Squanto and the other Indians said a good many 
words and made a good many gestures which the 
pioneers could not understand. They were all 
still standing in Leiden Street, and Squanto kept 


120 


Little Pioneers 


pointing to Watson’s Hill. Suddenly Damaris 
Hopkins uttered a little cry, and ran to her 
mother. 

“Look!” she cried. “Oh, look! Hundreds of 
Indians!” 


CHAPTER XI 


The Meeting with Massasoit 

O N THE top of Watson’s Hill was standing 
a large band of Indians. To little Damaris 
Hopkins they might indeed have seemed like 
hundreds. They stood on the hill, looking very 
tall, all holding their bows and arrows. The sun 
glistened on their necklaces, and the red and 
black paint on their faces was very plainly seen. 

“What does this mean?” asked Captain Miles 
Standish of Samoset. 

“I have been trying to tell you,” Squanto said, 
slowly. “It is my great chief, Massasoit, and his 
brother, Quadequina, and all their men.” 

“They are welcome,” said Governor Carver. 
“Will you not come to them?” asked Squanto. 
“Nay; tell them to come to us,” replied the 
governor. 

Squanto and Samoset and the other three 
Indians went quickly to Watson’s Hill. The 
pioneers could see them talking. 

“I wonder what they are saying?” Love 
whispered to Bart. 

“They are saying that they don’t want to 
come,” Bart said. 


I2I 


122 


Little Pioneers 


Squanto came back alone, walking rather slowly. 

“My chief Massasoit,” he said, “would speak 
to his white brothers.” 

“We will listen gladly,” the governor replied. 

Squanto hesitated. He spoke in a roundabout 
way for several minutes. At last he said : ‘ ‘ Let my 
white brothers send a friend with me to greet Mas- 
sasoit. Let him stay among our men on the hill 
while Massasoit is here, as I have stayed with you.” 

“Humph!” said Captain Standish, in a low 
tone. “Massasoit is afraid to trust us. He 
wants a hostage.” 

“It is perhaps but fair,” replied the governor. 
“We shall send one. Who shall it be. Elder 
Brewster?” 

“Let us send Edward Winslow,” said the 
elder. “Though he can speak no word of the 
savage tongue, he has such gentle manners that 
even a savage could understand them.” 

Edward Winslow said he would go. 

“But shall I not take presents to the chief?” 
he said. “He will understand that kind of 
greeting.” 

“True,” said the governor. “Let us send a 
little food. Our biscuit is good, and we should 
send some, for that is new food to the Indians.” 

“Aye, and some of our butter,” said Elder 
Brewster. 


The Meeting with Massasoit I2j 

“In faith,” murmured Giles Hopkins, “we shall 
not miss it, for it is getting bad.” 

“Nay,” said the governor, gravely; “we are not 
giving away the food because it is bad. We have 
been thankful for our butter, however rancid, 
this winter. Look, now, in the stores, Giles 
Hopkins; see what we can use as gifts for the 
Indians.” 

Giles went into the loft of the common house. 
Soon he came back with a heavy copper chain 
and two clasp-knives, which the governor told 
Edward Winslow to give to Massasoit; and a 
knife and an ear- jewel for Quadequina. 

“All that will do excellently,” said the governor. 

Winslow put on his armor and sword, took 
the articles, and set off with Squanto. After 
they were gone the governor said: 

“These savages like display. Then let us 
receive them according to their wishes. Love, 
go and ask your mother for the green cloth that 
is in her bedroom. We shall meet in one of the 
houses that is being built, and spread it on a 
bench.” 

“There are some gay-covered cushions in my 
chest,” said Bart Allerton’s father. “I have 
never used them, for they are too worldly. Go, 
Bart, and bring them.” 

While Love and Bart went for the things. 


124 


Little Pioneers 


Captain Standish turned to the governor and said : 

“Since we are using so much ceremony, why 
not have a trumpet blown, and a drum sounded? 



Let me go to the brook to meet Massasoit. I will 
wear my armor and sword. Giles can blow a 
trumpet, and some one else can beat the drum.” 


The Meeting with Massasoit 125 

“Let young John Billington beat the drum,” 
said Elder Brewster. “He can do well at that. 
The other men can stand about the door, and 
within the house, and make a good appearance.” 

This was agreed to, and all was made ready for 
the reception of Massasoit, and food and drink 
were hastily prepared. 

Meanwhile, Edward Winslow, walking beside 
Squanto, crossed the brook and ascended the hill. 
There Massasoit stood in front of his sixty men. 
He was a very tall, broad Indian, dressed in 
buckskin leggings and a girdle, deeply fringed. 
Around his neck was a chain of wolf fangs. A 
great headdress of eagle feathers adorned his head, 
and extended down his back nearly to the ground. 
His face was grave and dignified. Edward 
Winslow thought it was spoiled by a bar of red 
paint across the cheeks, but Massasoit considered 
that this paint added to his dignity. 

The chief made no sign till Winslow had set the 
presents on the ground. Then Winslow bowed 
and said to Squanto: 

“Tell your great chief that I ask him to accept 
these gifts as a sign that his white brothers wish 
to live in peace and friendship with him.” 

Squanto translated these words to Massasoit. 
The chief looked at the presents for a moment. 
Then he said to Squanto with great dignity: 


126 


Little Pioneers 


“Tell my white brothers they are welcome.” 
“Will not the chief Massasoit visit our white 
chief?” asked Edward Winslow. “I will stay 



here with my brothers till Massasoit returns.” 

Massasoit agreed. Then he and twenty of 
the Indians, accompanied by Squanto, departed 
for the settlement. Winslow, left without an 


The Meeting with Massasoit 127 

interpreter, wondered how he should get along. 
The Indians brought him a pile of deerskins on 
which to sit, and a lump of dried fish, and some 
com cake. Edward Winslow accepted both, 
though he did not like the look of the fish. He ate 
it, however, and tried to talk by signs to the Indians. 

When Massasoit and his men reached the 
brook, there stood Captain Standish waiting for 
them. The captain took off his steel cap. Giles 
Hopkins and Mr. Allerton each blew a blast on 
a trumpet, and young John Billington beat as 
hard as he could on the drum. 

Massasoit and his Indians were pleased, but 
they did not show what they felt. They stalked 
along gravely, preceded by Captain Standish and 
his band. 

At the door of the largest unfinished house stood 
the governor. He took Massasoit by the hand, 
and led him to the bench, decked out with the 
green cloth and the gay cushions. The governor 
kissed Massasoit ’s hand, and Massasoit kissed 
him. Then they sat down. The other Indians 
and white men remained standing. 

Squanto interpreted the governor’s words of 
greeting, and Massasoit made suitable reply. 
Then food was brought to the Indians, which 
they ate willingly. 

After the Indians had eaten, the governor made 


128 


Little Pioneers 


a long speech, which Squanto interpreted. The 
governor said that he wanted peace, and would 
like to make a treaty with the Indians. 

Massasoit was silent for a time. 

“Will the white men treat me like brothers of 
.my own tribe?” he asked at last. 

The governor promised that they would. 

“And will the white men keep our treaty?” 

The governor said that they would keep the 
treaty faithfully. 

“It is good,” said Massasoit. “We will make 
the treaty, and I and my sons, and my sons’ 
sons, will see that it is not broken.” 

They talked over the terms of the treaty, which 
were fair to both sides. They were not to make 
war on each other, but were to help each other 
always. They were to trade together, and trade 
honestly. When they visited each other, they 
were to leave their weapons behind. 

After the terms of the treaty were decided upon, 
Massasoit took a pipe from his girdle, and, going 
to the hearth, lighted it. Then he smoked it for 
a little time, and passed it to the governor, who 
smoked for a moment, and then passed it to Cap- 
tain Standish. So the pipe went the rounds of 
both white men and Indians, for this was the 
Indian way of showing that peace was established. 

The children had stood as quiet as mice in 


The Meeting with Massasoit i2Q 

the corners. But they were looking at everything 
that went on. 

“Do you see how tall and straight and still 
they stand?” whispered Love. “They have not 
moved once, except to take the pipe.” 

“And they don’t smile or speak,” said Bart. 
“They just look and look.” 

But after a time the Indians began to touch as 
well as to look. They were much interested in 
the armor of the men. They fingered it, and 
would have been glad to exchange skins for it. 
Some of the Indians tried to sound the trumpet, 
and Bart and Love had all they could do to keep 
from laughing at the strange sounds. 

Then Massasoit prepared to go away. The 
pioneers kept back seven or eight Indians as 
hostages for the safe return of Edward Winslow. 
At the brook Massasoit and the governor em- 
braced, and the Indians went up the hill. All 
the pioneers, big and little, and the Indian 
hostages, watched the departure. 

“I like Squanto,” Love said to Bart. “I wish 
he would come back again.” 

“We have had enough of Indians for one day,” 
Bart replied. “They number so many more 
than our men.” 

“But they have not so much courage as our 
men,” Love said. “Did you not notice how 


9 


IJO 


Little Pioneers 


Massasoit trembled as he sat on the green cloth 
beside our governor?” 

“I thought he was cold,” Bart said. 

“No; he was afraid,” replied Love, “and so 
were the other Indians, except Squanto. That 
is one reason why I like Squanto.” 

“Look! Look up on the hill!” cried Bart. 
“The Indians are coming back!” 

“No,” said sharp-eyed Love; “these are not the 
same Indians. That tall young man at their head 
must be Quadequina.” 

It was Quadequina, and he approached courage- 
ously with his men. When he had crossed the 
brook he paused, and made signs which showed 
that he was afraid of the muskets. So the white 
men carried away the muskets. Then they led 
the Indians to the house where Massasoit had 
been entertained, and gave them food. 

“I wish the Indians would not stay so long,” 
Bart said. “It hinders our men in their work.” 

After some time Quadequina and his men left, 
but the Indian hostages stayed behind. The 
white men stood by the brook, waiting. Soon 
a man came walking alone down the hill. 

“It is Edward Winslow,” Love said. 

The pioneers were glad to see Winslow come. 
They trusted Massasoit, but still they felt safer 
to have their hostage back. 


The Meeting with Massasoit iji 

“The Indians were very kind to me,” Winslow 
said, when he had crossed the brook. “They 
are coming in a few days to help us plant corn. 
They are going to live near us all summer. We 
have found friends in the New World.” 

The pioneers dismissed the Indian hostages. 
Two of these men wanted to stay all night, but 
the governor would not allow it. Squanto and 
Samoset, however, did stay, sleeping in the 
unfinished house. Massasoit and his men camped 
in the woods about half a mile away. Some of 
the pioneers sat up all night to watch, but the 
Indians did not attempt to harm the settlement. 

In the gray of the morning Captain Standisji 
reported to Elder Brewster that all was well. 
Love, sitting up on his bed of balsam boughs, 
heard his words. He also heard his father’s 
reply: 

“God has been good to us. The Indians are 
prepared to live in peace and friendliness with 
us. Now, indeed, I know that our colony will 
survive.” 


CHAPTER XII 


Squanto as Teacher 

T he next morning the children woke up, 
quite used to the idea that the Indians 
were to be neighbors and friends. They went 
about their various tasks. Bart and Love and 
Wrestling and John Billington went to the wood 
to get some chips and branches. While they 
were gathering them, Love spoke to Bart. 

'‘Look,” he whispered; “look through the trees 
t@ your left.” 

Bart looked up. ^ few rods away, standing as 
still as the trees themselves, were half a dozen 
Indian women and boys. Love made signs of 
peace to them, and advanced toward them, but 
they were shy, and ran a^ay. 

The boys finished their tasks just about the 
time the little girls were done with sweeping and 
polishing dishes. Then they all began to play. 
The younger ones, like little Resolved White and 
Remember Allerton, made mud pies, at the lower 
end of the brook. Resolved also dammed up a 
little rivulet and set sailing a boat which Giles 
Hopkins had made for him. 

Mary Allerton and Ellen More, who liked 


132 


Squanto as Teacher 




housekeeping, made a little oven of stones and 
were ready to cook a clam. John Billington was 
spinning a top, while Love and Bart were trying 
to start a game of prisoner’s base. 

“John Billington,” said Love, “leave spinning 
your top, and play prisoner’s base.” 



Mary Allerton and Ellen More made a little oven 

John shook his head in vigorous refusal. 
“Then let us get the girls and play ‘London 
Bridge Is Falling Down,”’ Bart suggested. 

“No, no, I have just made my top spin well,” 
John said. 

“Then let us play that game of Indian football 


m 


Little Pioneers 


which Squanto told us about,” Love said; '‘we 
can take off our shoes and stockings and play 
it on the sand.” 

Just then Mary and Ellen jumped up and ran 
to Bart and Love. 

“Squanto is coming,” they said. 

Squanto came walking up from the common 
house. The men had not let him go inside, and 
he was very curious. Love thought he was 
dissatisfied. 

“Come, Squanto,” he said, taking the Indian’s 
hand, “I will show you what my father’s house 
is like.” 

He led Squanto into Elder Brewster’s house, 
all the children following. Love got down a 
pewter plate from the kitchen cupboard. 

' “Look at this beautiful plate, Squanto,” he 
said. “You can almost see your face in it.” 

Squanto gazed with great respect, at the blurred 
reproduction of his face. 

“It is very pretty, isn’t it, Squanto?” Mary 
Allerton asked in a trembling voice. 

Squanto nodded. 

“Now, look at my father’s carved armchair,” 
Love said. 

Squanto passed his hand respectfully over the 
wooden back. 

“It is good,” he said. 


Squanto as Teacher 


135 


“I want Squanto to see my brother Peregrine,’* 
Resolved White said. 

So they showed Squanto little Peregrine in his 
heavy wooden cradle. Squanto shook his head. 

“Our Indians make better cradles than that,” 
he said. 

John Alden, who had joined the group, asked, 
“Will you show us how to make cradles, Squanto ? ” 

“I will show my white brothers how to make 
cradles,” Squanto said; “and I will show them 
how to make canoes. You have only two boats, 
a little one and a big one. Two are not enough 
for so many men.” 

“That is a good thought,” John Alden said. 
“You will be a useful friend.” 

The other men had gone about the work which 
the coming of Massasoit had interrupted. John 
Alden went to cut wood, leaving Squanto with 
the children. Toward noon, when he came 
back, he found Squanto saying something which 
particularly interested Love and Bart. 

‘ ‘ J ohn Alden ! ” Bart shouted. ‘ ‘ Come and hear 
what Squanto is saying about fishing.” 

Squanto waited until John Alden came close 
to him. 

“My white brothers have no fish,” he said. 
“They eat only clams and the flesh of deer.” 

‘ ‘ In truth, if you will show us how to take fish, we 


Little Pioneers 


136 

shall be most grateful, Squanto,” said John Alden. 

“I will show you how to take eels,” said 
Squanto. “I have caught them many times 
in that brook by the white chief’s house.” 
He pointed to the brook that flowed past the hill. 



Squanto gravely stepped into the brook, and began to tread up 
and down in the mud 


“I will go there now and take eels for you,” 
said Squanto. 

He walked beside John Alden to the brook. 
The children followed eagerly. They had never 
seen eels, though they had heard of them. 

Squanto gravely stepped into the brook, and 
began to tread up and down in the mud. In a 



Squanto as Teacher 


137 


few moments black bubbles showed about his 
feet. Suddenly he stooped quickly, caught some- 
thing in his hands, and threw it on the bank. 

It was a long eel, that whirled and wriggled and 
looped wildly. Mary Allerton cried out, because 
it looked so much like a snake. 

Squanto went on treading the mud, and soon 
he caught more eels. 

“It is* very easy,” he said. “To-morrow I will 
go for my canoe and spear, and then I will show 
you how to spear fish.” 

That day Massasoit and his Indians went away. 
Squanto left with them, and the children felt 
very sorry, for they were afraid he might not come 
back' very soon. A day or two later, however, 
while they were playing at hare and hounds on 
the beach, they saw him. He was paddling in his 
canoe a few yards from shore. The children 
welcomed him with a shout, and he seemed gl^d 
to see them. Besides his great bow and quiver 
of arrows he carried a spear and a string of dried 
gourds of various sizes. 

“My people use these for dishes,” he said; 
“but they are not so pretty as pewter.” 

The children took Squanto to Elder Brewster’s 
house, and he showed Mistress Brewster and 
Priscilla how to cut the gourds in two and make 
bowls and saucers of them. 


Little Pioneers 


138 

“Now we shall have plenty of dishes,” said 
Damaris Hopkins joyfully. 

She was going to throw away the seeds which 
dropped from the gourds. But Squanto took 
them away from her. 

“These can be planted and make many more,” 
he said. 

Damaris blushed for shame. The pioneers were 
so used to being economical that she felt disgraced 
to have shown herself wasteful. 

The next day Squanto went fishing with John 
Alden and Giles Hopkins, while the other men 
worked in the fields. Squanto showed the two 
how to cast lines and how to manage the net. 
Under his teaching it was not long before they 
had a boatful of fish. When they rowed ashore 
the other men crowded around the boat. 

“Fine fish for every one!” said John. 

“But why save the little ones?” asked Captain 
Standish. “They will have to be thrown back 
in the water, or used for bait.” 

“My brother is wrong,” said Squanto. “You 
will need these little fish when you plant com.” 

“Plant corn!” repeated Captain Standish. 
“What have the fish of the sea to do with the 
com of the earth?” 

“My brothers wish the com to grow?” asked 
Squanto. 


Squanto as Teacher 


139 


“Aye, that we do,^’ said John Alden. “It is all 
that will lie between us and starvation this winter.” 

The children looked serious. They knew their 
stock of flour was getting very low. They knew 
that if the corn crop failed they might all die. 

“I saw my brothers breaking the earth,” 
said Squanto. 

“And hard work it is,” said Miles Standish. 
“I had rather wield my good sword than a hoe.” 

‘ ‘ My brothers are using the fleld that the dead 
Indians used once. It is nearly dead, too.” 

“He means that the soil is worn out,” said 
Bart’s father, who had been a farmer in England. 
“He is right, too.” 

“If my brothers wish the com to grow, they 
must plant a little dead fish with each kernel,” 
said Squanto quietly. 

“Nonsense!” cried young Giles Hopkins. 
“Who ever heard of planting fish?” 

But Mr. Allerton stopped him. 

“Nay, lad, let the wiser heads talk,” he said. 
“This Indian planted com before you were born.” 

“Then you think it a good plan?” asked John 
Alden doubtfully. 

“You are no farmer, John Alden,” said Mr. 
Allerton. “The ground does need fertilizing, 
and I think dead fish will be as good as any other 
manure.” 


140 


Little Pioneers 


Later, Squanto helped the men set the crops. 
They planted twenty acres. 

Love and Bart and the little girls helped make 
a garden around each house. Mr. Allerton held 
what he called a little school of farming. He 
taught the children how to hold the hoe, and how 
to break clods and make the soil fine and smooth 
and level. Then he showed them how to trace 
little furrows with a hoe, and how to drop in 
garden seed without wasting any. He gave each 
child a row of corn for his own. There was no 
thought of prizes or rewards of any sort. The one 
idea of every one was to work as hard as he 
could to help save the colony. And side by side 
with them worked their new friend Squanto. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A Store of Sweets 

J OHN ALDEN and Squanto walked out of the 
common house, Squanto carrying what looked 
like two short logs, while John had his broad- 
ax. The children were on the watch for them. 

“Now, tell us, John,” said Love, “tell us where 
you are going to take us.” 

“First of all, answer me some questions,” 
John said. “How long since any of you have 
had sugar?” 

“A week, as you know, John Alden,” Priscilla 
called from the Brewster doorway. ‘ ‘ All our sugar 
is gone, and, alas, our meal and flour, too, are low.” 

“When the corn grows, meal will be plentiful,” 
John said. “But tell me, who would like to eat 
sugar?” 

“I! I!” cried all the children. 

“Then come with me,” said John. “That is, 
if the women will allow it; girls and boys both.” 

It was a mild day, so the mothers were willing 
to let the children go. They were never afraid 
to trust John Alden. They came to the doors 
and watched him as he stood with the children 
clustered around him. 


142 


Little Pioneers 


“What fresh mystery are you making, John?” 
asked Mistress Brewster. “You and the children 
have very many secrets.” 

“Nay, this is a pleasant surprise for you,” 
said John. “But where is Giles Hopkins? Ah, 
here he comes now.” 

Giles came out of the common house, carrying 
an ax and two great iron kettles. John took one 
of these from him. Then he said: “Now, we 
need three wooden pails. Love and Bart and 
John Billington, find me one each.” 

While the boys were getting the pails Squanto 
set his logs on the ground. The children saw that 
they were about three feet long, made of butternut 
wood and hollowed in the shape of a trough. 

“It cannot be for fishing,” said Remember, in 
a puzzled tone. 

“No,” John said; “we are all going to the 
woods. It is a good two miles, Squanto says. 
But we are all able to walk that far.” 

The children set off, Squanto and John leading, 
and Giles coming last. When they entered the 
woods John Alden pointed to the dark stumps. 

“See how many of these there are, and a year 
ago there were none.” 

“And in another year all the land about here 
may be cleared,” said Giles Hopkins. “Perhaps 
it may be planted.” 


A Store of Sweets 143 

“Oh, look!” cried Bart. “There is a bank 
of dirty snow that the sun has not touched.” 

“Aye; we’ll find more of it before we leave,” 
John said. 

“Maybe we’ll find snakes,” said John Billington 
to Mary, who was afraid of snakes. 

“No,” said John Alden. “It is too early for 
snakes. Think of something pleasant to talk 
about, Johnny.” 

“Indians?” asked John Billington. 

“All friends,” said Squanto. 

The children were so used to Squanto ’s kindness 
that they had lost all fear of Indians. . 

“Let us talk about the sugar,” Damaris Hopkins 
said. “John Alden, have you hidden a chest of it 
in the woods?” 

They all laughed at the question. 

“No,” John said. “But there are barrels and 
barrels of it. Nay, I shall answer no more 
questions.” 

After they had walked some distance Squanto 
said, “Here is the place.” 

The children looked about them. They were 
in a grove of tall trees, growing fairly well apart, 
and with little underbrush. 

“These are good trees,” said Squanto. 

He pointed to two small, low-spreading, but 
strong trees, perhaps five feet apart. 


144 


Little Pioneers 


“Just what we need,” said John Alden. He 
and Giles began to trim off the branches. The 
children watched, and presently they saw that 
the trees had been made into two forked sticks. 
Then Squanto came with a heavy green stick, 
almost four inches in diameter. He placed this 
from fork to fork. 

John laughed at their amazement. 

“Now follow Squanto, and watch him,” he 
said. ‘ ‘ This grove is nearly all maple trees, and 
Squanto will get the sap from them to make us 
maple sugar.” 

None of the children had ever eaten maple 
sugar. They felt that sugar coming from trees 
must be queer. But they had eaten so much new 
food in America that they were ready for anything. 
Besides, if John Alden said it was sugar, it must 
be sugar. 

Squanto took a broadax and cut two great 
gashes across the side of a tree, in the shape of a 
V, and scooped it out a little, so that the sap would 
run freely. He set one of the troughs at the foot 
of the tree. 

“Now go and get me some wood, children,” 
John Alden said. “Lay it by the forked sticks.” 

The children obeyed. When they had got a 
pile of wood John told them to look at the two 
gashes. They were delighted to see thick drops 


A Store of Sweets 14^ 

of sap beginning to come out of the tree into the 
trough. 

But John Alden shook his head. 

“Squanto,” he said. “Do not these maple 
trees sometimes die of these great gashes?” 

“Sometimes,” replied Squanto. “But I know 
of no other way to get sap.” 

“Nevertheless, I think I see another way,” 
John said. “Cut but one more tree, Sqjianto.’* 

While Squanto cut the other tree, John found 
a good piece of basswood. He made of it, with 
his clasp-knife, a rough, semi-circular spout. 
Before he had it finished, Squanto and the children 
were all watching him. Then, going to a maple 
tree, he cut a hole half an inch round and one and 
a half inches deep, at about four feet from the 
ground. Into this notch he set the spout of 
basswood. Soon the children were delighted to 
see the sap come. 

“Quick, Love, put a pail under,” cried John. 
“We must waste nothing.” 

“John is getting more sap than Squanto,” 
whispered Bart. “And it won’t kill the tree, 
will it, John?” 

“Now that we have the sap running, let us go 
back to our forked sticks,” said John. “We must 
make a fire with which to boil the sap.” 

So they went back to the forked sticks. 


10 


146 


Little Pioneers 


Giles,” said John. “Did you bring your 
tinder box? I haven’t one.” 

“I did better than that,” said Giles. “I 
brought some fire in the bottom of one of these 
kettles. Did you not see how tenderly I carried 
it?” 

“It was a good thought, so you have not 
injured the kettle, ’ ’ said John. ‘ ‘ Now, boys, some 
dry sticks.” 

Their willing hands gathered the sticks. Giles 
turned the pot upside down, and soon there was 
a brisk fire. 

‘ ‘ Be sure that the kettle Giles brought the fire in 
is clean,” John said. 

Love and Bart got some dry oak leaves, snow 
and moss, and polished the inside of the kettle. 

“Well done,” said John. “Now, Giles, lift up 
one end of the cross stick, while Squanto puts on 
the kettles.” 

Soon the two kettles were swinging over the fire. 

“The next thing,” John Alden said, “is to pour 
in the sap. But none will be ready for some time. 
We must gather sticks for the next hour at least.” 

After the children had collected what seemed 
to them the biggest heap of wood they had ever 
seen,' John said to Squanto: 

“Do you think we have enough sap to cover 
the bottom of the kettles?” 


A Store of Sweets 


147 


Squanto went to the troughs. Then he took 
one of the two empty pails, and poured sap into 
it from the troughs and from the sap pail which 
stood under the tree John had cut. 

“There is enough to cover the bottom of the 
kettles,” he said. “The sap is running well 
to-day.” 

The children watched Squanto divide the sap 
between the kettles. After a long time they saw 
the liquid begin slowly to bubble and seethe. 

“Come, come,” said John, “you are letting the 
fire die down. I can tell you it is not easy to get 
enough wood when you are sugaring. Off for 
sticks, all of you.” 

The children brought load after load. John 
told them that the more wood they brought, the 
longer they could watch the kettles boiling. While 
they were gone John and Giles and Squanto 
made basswood spouts. 

Presently Squanto tqok an ax, and went off 
alone. The children could hear his ax ringing and 
echoing through the woods. When he came back 
they saw that he had three small logs. 

“What are you going to do, Squanto?” asked 
Love. 

“I make more troughs,” answered Squanto. 
“The sap is flowing well for my white brothers. 
We shall need more troughs to catch it.” 


148 


Little Pioneers 



The children brought load after load 


Squanto set his logs near the fire. Then he 
put some of the burning wood on top of the logs, 
just in the center of each. 

“I know!” cried Love. “He is going to burn 
out the trough.” 

“It will hold more than the pails,” Squanto said. 

The children began to watch the kettles again, 
while Giles Hopkins brought more sap. 


A Store of Sweets 


149 


There goes the sixth quart , ’ ’ Giles said. ‘ ‘ How 
much sugar will that make, think you, John 
Alden?” 

“According to Squanto, the sap boils down a 
good deal. I should say four gallons of the liquid 
would make not more than one pound of sugar.” 

The children uttered a disappointed “Oh!” 

“Nay, you expect too much,” John said. 
“Each tree will yield from two to six pounds.” 

‘ ‘ But there are many trees, ’ ’ Giles said. ‘ ‘ Take 
comfort, then. See, we have cut eight already. 
We shall have all the sugar we need.” 

“Especially if the sap runs so well,” said John. 
“I must have more pails and cut more trees this 
afternoon.” 

The children thought the sap took a long time 
to boil. They looked at it while they ate their 
cold dinner. John and Squanto tended it care- 
fully, and skimmed off all the refuse matter which 
came to the surface. At last Squanto said the 
sirup was boiled enough; that if it boiled any 
more the sugar would be burnt. John poured 
the liquid into a wooden pail, cooling it with 
snow. The sirup slowly hardened into a cake of 
coarse grayish-brown sugar. The children were 
delighted. 

“Now,” said John. “It grows late, and you 
must all go back. Giles will go with you.” 


Little Pioneers 


150 

“But aren’t you coming?” asked Love. 

“No, Giles is coming back, and he and Squanto 
and I shall stay all night. The sap runs so well 
that I do not wish to leave it.” 

“We can ill be spared for this work,” said 
Giles; “but must is our master.” 

“Oh, John, let me stay,” cried Love. 

“And me!” said Bart. 

“And me!” said John Billington. 

The little girls were willing to go home. 

“The wolves may come,” said John Alden. 

“Oh, no,” said Love. “This is too near the 
settlement. Pray, John Alden, let us stay.” 

“Why not, then?” asked Giles. “I am needed 
in the fields. Let the lads come back with fresh 
pails, and blankets to sleep on.” 

“Ask your mothers,” said John. “If they 
consent, so do 1.” 

Love and Bart started off, carrying a pail 
between them. They ran almost all the way to 
the settlement. They were so out of breath 
that they could n’t talk when they reached the 
Brewster house. They only pointed to the pail 
of sugar. 

Mistress Brewster tasted it and said it was good. 
Then the boys began to ask to go back and stay 
with John Alden. Mistress Billington would not 
consent to let John go, but Mistress Brewster said 


A Store of Sweets 


151 

that Love and Bart might go if they were really 
needed. Giles said there would be work for them. 



Mistress Brewster tasted the sugar 


So, after eating supper, Love and Bart set out 
for the maple grove. They each wore a thick 
cloak and each carried two blankets, besides four 
more wooden pails. This was a heavy burden 
for such small boys, but the little pioneers were 
hardened to work. 

As soon as the boys reached John and Squanto 
they at once began to collect more firewood, while 


152 


Little Pioneers 


the men watched the kettles. By this time it was 
quite dark. John lighted some pine knots and 
set them about on the ground. After this the 
moon rose, and the boys got still more firewood. 

John made them wrap up in the blankets and 
try to sleep, while he and Squanto took turns 
watching the kettles, but for a long time the 
boys were too much excited even to shut their eyes. 

What if a wolf should really come, with its eyes 
blazing like the fire and its breath whistling like 
the wind? What if the big kettles should fall 
and spill the sirup? 

By and by they began to feel very quiet. The 
white moonlight shone down on them, making 
the tall trees look dark and still. They felt the 
great silence about them. It was broken only 
by the steady drip of the sap in the troughs, the 
crackle of the fire, and now and then the distant 
hoot of an owl. England seemed very far away, 
almost as far as the big stars above them. Even 
Leiden Street, and the log houses, seemed very 
far away. They breathed in the wholesome forest 
smells, and they felt very happy to be in this new 
world, making a new nation. 

In the gray of early morning John woke them 
to send them for more firewood. They were a 
little stiff and tired, but without a word of com- 
plaint they hurried off for dead branches. They 


A Store of Sweets 


153 


did not have their breakfast until they had 
enough wood to last two hours. Then they ate 
some dried fish and some bread, on which John 
spread generous lumps of maple sugar. 

After breakfast John said: “Squanto found 
something this morning when he was tapping 
a fresh tree. He will show you.” 

Squanto took the boys up to a hollow tree. 

“Look, inside,” called John. “It’s safe.” 

‘ ‘ Oh ! ’ ’ cried Bart. “ It ’s honey — wild honey ! 
Surely we have plenty of sweets.” 

“Surely you have,” John said. “And now go 
back to the settlement with a cake of sugar. 
No, no, carry only one. Send the other children 
so that they may carry back these other three 
cakes.” 

“And may we come back?” asked Love. 

“If you are not too tired,” John said. “Ask 
Priscilla to bring Squanto and me a hot dish this 
noon, if she can spare the time.” 

Though Love and Bart did not spend another 
night out of doors, they helped John Alden and 
Squanto every day until more than enough sugar 
had been gathered to supply the colony for a year. 
They learned many things: that the sweetest sap 
came from a maple that stood alone in a grove of 
trees; that sap from a shallow cut dripped mofe 
freely but sap from a deep cut was sweeter; and 


154 


Little Pioneers 


that other trees besides maples had a sweet sap. 

“The children have worked hard in the sugar 
making,” John Alden said to Mr. Bradford, who 
was now the governor. 

“That is as it should be,” said Governor 
Bradford. “The play of our pioneer children 
must be work for many a year to come.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


The Sailing of the “Mayflower’* 

T he April sun was hot, and the children were 
tired. They had been working in their 
gardens and helping the men scale the fish. 
They had had dinner, and were standing outside 
the common house. 

“This is the first really warm day we have had 
since we left Southampton,” Bart said. 

“It seems good not to have shoes and stockings 
on,” Love said. “The sim feels warm and soft 
on my feet.” 

“’T is almost like an English day,” said Mis- 
tress Brewster, leaving her doorway and joining 
the children. 

She shut her eyes, and saw a flash of her 
old home, Scrooby. There were the soft green 
meadows about the manor house. There were 
the tall sycamore and willow trees. She could see 
the green hedges surrounding the farmhouses. 
She could see the hawthorn trees in bloom, and 
could hear the singing of the wild thrush. 
She could see the old ivy-covered church of 
Scrooby, its gray spire pointing to the sky. 

Then she opened her eyes, and saw Leiden 


155 


Little Pioneers 


Street with its half-dozen log huts, the hill 
behind, and, still farther away, the woods. 
And there at her feet were the soberly clad 
children, looking curiously at her. 

“Oh, mother, tell us a tale of Scrooby,” said 
Love. 

“Do, do. Mistress Brewster,” begged the 
children. 

“I will bring out a stool,” said Bart, running 
into the house. 

Mistress Brewster sat on the stool among the 
children. 

“So you want a tale of home?” she asked. 
“And yet none of you remember anything about 
home; we spent so many years in Holland when 
we found that we should not be allowed to worship 
in peace in England.” 

“I have not seen Scrooby,” said Love, “but 
I have heard so many tales of it that I think I 
can see it.” 

“Do tell us a tale of Scrooby,” cried Priscilla, 
joining the group. “I love to hear the stories 
of the time when Elder Brewster had charge of 
the relays of horses on the post road in Scrooby.” 

“Those were days of care,” said Mistress 
Brewster. 

“Ah, but think of the processions and the fine 
gentlemen clattering along the streets, clad in 


The Sailing of the Mayflower IS7 


their gay attire! Just think, Love, of the day 
the Earl of Essex came, wearing a satin suit all 
sprinkled with diamonds ! Three thousand pounds 
it cost. They say that one who followed him, and 



So you want a tale of home?” Mistress Brewster asked 


picked up the diamonds he dropped, sold them 
for a little fortune.” 

“Priscilla,” reproved Mistress Brewster, “you 
are too worldly, child, too fond of hearing of gay 
clothes and worldly music.” 



158 Little Pioneers 

Priscilla blushed, and Mistress Brewster con- 
tinued: “That three thousand pounds would be 
the making of our colony if we had it. It would 
bring us many a good comfort from England. 
But you would hear a story of England, children ? ” 

“Yes, yes, of England, of your home, Scrooby,” 
said the children. 

“Then I will tell you a tale of Scrooby Manor. 
It happened long ago, — full eighty years ago. 
It was my grandmother who told it to me. 

“One morning the people of Scrooby saw a 
fine horseman come galloping down the village 
street. He had on a splendid crimson velvet 
cloak, and he carried a great golden trumpet. 
His horse was white, with long, streaming tail, 
and long, glossy mane. 

“The horseman galloped on till he came to 
Scrooby Manor, which was then the archbishop’s 
house. 

“ T am from the king! ’he cried. 

“The warder at the gate let him through into 
the courtyard. He dismounted, and another 
servant led him to the library, where sat the 
wife of the archbishop. 

“‘My lord is not at home,’ she said, bowing 
deeply to the messenger of the king. ‘I pray you, 
deliver your message to me.’ 

“The messenger returned her salutation. 


The Sailing of the Mayflower 15Q 

“‘His majesty, King Henry the Eighth, with 
his son. Prince Edward, and their suite, will visit 
Scrooby for the purpose of holding a great hunt 
of the .fox to-morrow. They will arrive to-day 
while it is still light. The king will do you the 
honor of lodging with you, — he and the prince 
and their suite. I do not doubt that you will 
make noble entertainment for them.’ 

“The archbishop’s wife made a suitable reply, 
and then the messenger departed. The moment 
he was out of the room the lady showed her 
excitement. 

“‘The king coming! And to-day! How can 
I get everything done? I must hurry to the 
kitchen. There will be great kneading of pastries 
and making of mincemeat this day.’ 

‘ ‘ The lady took off her rich brocaded gown and 
put on a plain woolen robe. She passed down the 
broad oak stairs and through the hall. She went 
to the kitchen, and told the news to the servants. 
Such excitement as they felt! The chief cook 
began to bustle about and give orders. 

“‘I will have an ox roasted whole in the fire- 
place,’ he said. ‘And there must be two little 
pigs standing upright on the table. Aye, and 
there must be plovers roasted with their feathers 
on. And Margot — where is Margot? She must 
make sauces all day long.’ 


i6o Little Pioneers 

‘“I myself will make cakes for che king,’ said 
the archbishop’s wife. 

“The chief cook frowned. He thought he 
could make cakes much better than the lady. 
But he dared not protest; he only began to give 
orders more loudly than ever. Then all the 
kitchen servants began to give orders to those 
below them in rank. And the very smallest 
servant of all, little Edward Monkham, was almost 
overwhelmed with orders. 

“‘Come, come, come!’ cried the archbishop’s 
wife. “’Tis Ned here, and Ned there, till you 
have the child bewildered. Come here, Ned.’ 

“Edward was not more than ten years old. 
He had a very sweet face, with big, serious brown 
eyes, and curling yellow hair. He wore a doublet 
and short trousers of brown worsted and long 
gray stockings, and coarse shoes. 

“‘Now then, Ned,’ said the lady kindly, ‘can 
you remember all those orders you have received?’ 

“‘Some of them, my lady,’ Edward replied. 
‘I am to go to the scullery and polish the great 
knife. I am to peel apples for the dumplings. 
I am to measure out spices and oils for Margot. I 
am to run to my mother and other village women 
for fresh butter and milk. I — am — ’ 

“But here the lady interrupted him, laughing. 

“‘Well, well, child, none can deny that you have 


The Sailing of the Mayflower i6i 

a good memory. Do these errands, but no more. 
Come to me then, for I have a plan of my own for 
you.’ 

“In two or three hours Edward was free. He 
came to the great hall where the archbishop’s 
wife sat with her women, giving orders about the 
airing of linen for the beds. 

“‘You have been prompt, child,’ said the lady. 
‘But fie, fie, what mean those red eyes? Why 
have you cried?’ 

“‘I have been to the village, my lady,’ said 
Edward, ‘and I have seen my mother and father. 
They have heard of the hunt. Our fields are 
full of wheat, and if it is tramped on by the 
riders we shall starve.’ 

“‘Now, lad, I am sorry,’ said the lady, ‘and the 
other farmers are in as bad a case as your father.’ 

“‘Nay, they have other crops than wheat,’ 
said Edward. ‘Moreover, their fields do not all 
lie so near the highroad as ours.’ 

“‘Well, child, dry your tears. We must all 
do the king’s will,’ said the lady, ‘and you, too, 
must have a share in all these doings. Do you 
know what these are?’ 

“She held up a doublet of white satin, with 
scarlet facings, and a pair of long white silk hose. 

‘“’T is the suit of a page,’ Edward said. 

“‘Aye, and it is your suit. You are to be page 
11 


i 62 


Little Pioneers 


to Prince Edward in case he needs you, or asks 
for you. You shall stand behind me at the door 
when we receive him. Then you shall tell him 
all about Scrooby if he cares to talk with you. 
Go call the barber, and have him dress your hair. 
Then shall you wear these clothes.’ 

“In spite of his sad heart Edward cotdd not 
help feeling pleased that he was to be a part of 
the great doings. He was dressed long before 
the king reached Scrooby. He took his station 
at an upper window of the manor. 

“The day wore on. At last, far off, he saw a 
little cloud of dust; then he saw the forms of a 
string of riders. These grew larger, and he heard 
the sound of trumpets. And then the long 
cavalcade came sweeping down the main street 
of Scrooby. 

“First came the king’s guards, in their red 
coats, and then the stout king, riding on a big 
gray horse. By his side, on a little black pony, 
rode Edward, the Prince of Wales. Behind rode, 
two and two, noblemen, guards, soldiers, and 
servants. The armor clashed and clattered, the 
sun shone on bright steel and gay plumes, and the 
splendid company rode into the courtyard of 
Scrooby Manor. 

“The archbishop went forward and bowed 
low to the king. When Henry dismounted, the 


The Sailing of the Mayflower i6j 

archbishop kissed his hand. Then he kissed the 
little prince’s hand. The soldiers and servants 
made two lines, and the king and prince passed 
between them to the great door. 

“There they greeted the wife of the archbishop. 
As the lady bowed low, the prince caught sight of 
Edward Monkham behind her. 

“‘Is that the lady’s page?’ asked the prince. 

“‘Nay, your Highness,’ answered the arch- 
bishop’s wife, ‘’t is a page for you, if you will 
have him.’ 

“‘That will I,’ said the little prince. ‘For the 
king brought no boy with us.’ 

“The king and prince and the attendants went 
to their rooms, and made ready for supper. It 
was a very grand and wasteful feast. The great 
dining hall was hung with rich cloths. Upon the 
floor, strewn with rushes, were placed trestles, 
and across these boards were laid. Then a fine 
white cloth was spread, and golden and silver 
plates and mugs and bowls and saltcellars were 
set about. 

“The servants brought the food from the 
kitchen. First of all, they carried in eight boars’ 
heads on silver platters. Then followed great 
quarters of beef. Then, on gold dishes, plovers 
so carefully cooked that their bright colors were 
preserved. 


164 


Little Pioneers 


“The chief cook had not forgotten to have tiny 
roasted pigs made ready. There were also rabbits 
stewed in Margot’s rich sauces. Then came hams 
and curries. Lastly, there were dumplings and 
tarts, and preserves, dates, apples, and figs. 

“Edward, the page, stood behind Prince Ed- 
ward’s chair, waiting on him. And more than 
once he sighed as he saw the wasteful profusion of 
food. His father and mother thought they did 
well if they tasted meat once a week. Yet here 
were pounds and pounds of flesh going away 
untasted. These people who wasted the food 
would to-morrow waste his father’s living for the 
year when they rode through the wheat in pursuit 
of the foxes. 

“After the long meal the page escorted the 
prince, accompanied by two men-at-arms, through 
Scrooby Manor. The page thought it the finest 
house in the world, but Prince Edward had seen 
many finer. He was, however, a polite boy, so 
he admired all he truthfully could. The page was 
shy at first, but the shyness wore off after a time, 
and soon the two were talking like any two boys. 
Prince Edward told all about his home in London, 
and his tutors, and his two sisters. Princess Mary 
and Princess Elizabeth. The page listened and 
asked questions, but he did not talk about his own 
humble life as a kitchen boy. 


The Sailing of the Mayflower 165 

“At last they came to the topmost room of 
Scrooby Manor, a tall one overlooking the court- 
yard. The prince and the page entered it quickly 
in advance of the men-at-arms. 

“The little prince went to the window. 

“‘Ah, it is open. Now I can look away down 
below,’ he cried. 

‘ ‘ The two boys mounted upon a bench beneath 
the window and looked out. They were not high 
enough, so they climbed to the sill. The little 
prince leaned away out. Suddenly he lost his 
balance. 

“Edward Monkham seized him by his silken 
doublet and held him, shouting for help. 

“It was only a minute before the men-at-arms 
rushed in, but it seemed hours to the page. His 
little arms were aching, his body was hanging 
half out of the window. 

“He felt thankful for the hard work which had 
made him strong enough to save the future king 
of England from death on the pavement below. 

“The men-at-arms pulled both the boys into 
the room. One of them boxed the page’s ears so 
hard that he staggered across the room. 

“‘Take that for daring to lead the prince into 
danger!’ he cried. 

“ ‘Nay, then, Diccon, if you but touch him again 
I will speak to the king and have you beaten,’ 


i66 


Little Pioneers 


cried Prince Edward. ‘Had the lad not been 
here, I had fallen upon the stone courtyard and 
been killed.’ 

“‘He should not have let your Highness 
approach the window,’ muttered the man. 

“‘It was my own fault,’ said the prince. ‘I led 
the way. I will tell the king you have saved me, 
lad.’ 

“So downstairs the little boys clattered, and 
sought the king, who was still in the dining hall 
eating sweetmeats, which the archbishop’s lady 
had made for him especially. The prince told 
his story, and then said: 

“‘So he saved me, and will you not give him a 
gift, sire?’ 

“‘Aye, will I,’ said Henry, the king, his ruddy 
face paling as he thought of the danger to his 
son. ‘What will you have, boy? Money? Land? 
Steeds ? Armor ? ’ 

“The boy looked at the king, and then at the 
archbishop. 

“‘Oh, your Majesty,’ he cried, ‘not money, 
but just that you will not hunt to-morrow, and 
thus spare the crops!’ 

“The king frowned at him. 

“‘You are thinking of the few ears of wheat 
my men will trample. But what if I pay, and 
richly, for all I destroy?’ 


The Sailing of the Mayflower 167 



The prince told his story 


“Edward was almost afraid to speak, but at 
last he said: 

“‘Nay, sire; I do not like the work of my 
father’s hands to be lost. I would that he had 
his wheat, no more, no less.’ 

“‘Nay, then, ’tis not a greedy wish,’ cried the 
king, laughing. “Say, then, will you come with 
your prince and me to London?’ 



i68 


Little Pioneers 


“‘Aye, come, Ned,’ said the prince. 

“‘Sire,’ answered the boy, ‘my father and 
mother have none but me. They are so poor 
that they must hire me out.’ 

“‘In faith, but this boy is obstinate,’ cried 
Henry. ‘What I and the prince will, must be 
done. But I will give your father a holding of land, 
so that he will be rich enough to hire a boy, and a 
man too. Then you will come. Master Unwilling ? ’ 
“‘Gladly, sire. 1 could ask no better than to 
serve the prince,’ said the page, as he bent and 
kissed the king’s hand. 

‘ ‘ So that was the beginning of Edward’s for- 
tune,” finished Mistress Brewster. “And if you 
were back in Scrooby this, day you would see what 
a great family Ned Monkham has founded.’^’ 

“’T is a pretty story,” said Priscilla* 

“But I can hardly believe that people have such 
grand houses and furniture,” said' Love. “C ■* 
little log houses are so different.” o 

“And think of all that rich fooQv ded Ba- 
“It is long since I tasted a sweetcake,*:!]; ' had 
apple.” ' 0'^ rd , 

“And our friends in England have all^: b-fa 
and clothing they need,” said Mary ■ 

“They do not have to use clam shells forrdl 
“Look!” cried little Wrestling. “Heres 
Captain Jones, and one of the sailors.” 


The Sailing of the Mayflower i6g 

The captain approached the common house 
with a serious air. 

“I would speak with the men,” he said, “and 
the women, too.” 

Some of the men were in the common house, 
sharpening their tools, or resting, before they 
began afternoon work in the fields. 

They looked up as Captain Jones entered. 

“He is come to speak of the sailing of the 
Mayflower Governor Bradford thought. 

All winter the Mayflower had been rocking in 
the harbor instead of sailing to England. First, 
Captain Jones and his sailors had waited for 
repairs. Then they were afraid to trust the ship 
in the hard winter storms. And, lastly, many of 
the sailors had been sick, and some had died. 

Captain Jones and his sailors had not been so 
Vind- to the pioneers as they might have been. 
>ut the pioneers had helped them when they were 
>ick, and C^'^^tain Jones and the men felt grateful. 
Capt? ^,ones addressed the pioneers: 
f “I 1 my sailors have suffered as well as you, 
jut T . have not borne our suffering so well. Our 
00 '^ > low and poor, but such as it is, we will 
it with you if you wish to go home to 
id with us.” 

o one spoke for a moment. Then Captain 
Jones went on: 


I/O 


Little Pioneers 


“You have, no doubt, pickled some food which 
we could take. Our food would surely last till 
we reached old England. Come, what do you 
say?” 

Still no one spoke, and Captain Jones continued : 

“I ask no money for this. You are all brave 
men and women, aye, and children. You have 
lived through a fearful winter, but do nqt think 
of another. This is no land for civili^^«d men. 
It is fit only for savages.” 

Then Governor Bradford looked about him^ 

“If there is any man here whp would return, 
let him speak,” he said. “He may go freely.” 

No one spoke. Then the governor looked at 
the women. 

“Some of our womenkind have set their hands 
to work that is too hard for them. Pioneer life 
is even harder for them than for us. If there is 
any unmarried woman here who would return, 
let her go under the protection of Captain Jones.” 

But no woman spoke. 

Then the governor looked at the boys and girls. 

“It has been a hard winter for our tender little 
ones,” he said. “They have had difficult work, 
and no schooling. If there is any parent who 
would send his child home, let him speak.” 

No one spoke for a moment ; then Elder Brewster 
said: “Nay, William Bradford, our home is here.” 


The Sailing of the Mayflower 171 

“You have heard,” said the governor to Captain 
Jones. “No one will go. The half of those of us 
who . came here to make a settlement are dead, 
but, under God’s grace, those of us who are left 
will give rise to a new nation.” 

Captain Jones could not speak for a time. 
Then he shook hands silently with all the men. 

“G( 1 bless all here,” he said. 

He kft the common house and went to the 
shore, the men and the women and the children 
fob owing him. He and his sailors entered the 
boat and began to row toward the Mayflower. 
The captain kept looking back at those he was 
leaving. When he had boarded the Mayflower 
the sailors hauled up the anchor. 

Slowly the Mayflower spread her sails, and 
moved out toward the sea. The women shed 
tears, and the men turned away. 

“The Mayflower is the only tie we have with 
home,” whispered Mistress Brewster, thinking 
of her son and daughters in England. 

‘ ‘ Nay, nay, ’ ’ said Governor Bradford. ‘ ‘ Think 
of your good husband’s words — ‘Our home is 
here.’” 

They watched the Mayflower for a few minutes 
longer. Then they all turned back to Leiden 
Street and took up their duties. 


CHAPTER XV 


School 


HE spring weather made a great difference 



in the feelings of every one. The sober 


Puritans smiled and spoke cheerfully. The chil- 
dren laughed and danced. Little Peregrine White 
began to cut his teeth a full month before any one 
expected him to. 

The children went hunting for wildflowers with 
Squanto. They found many hard berries which 
would ripen some day, but what they liked most 
of all were some wild-cherry trees. Love, who 
liked pretty things, broke off a bunch of the sweet 
blossoms for his mother. He knew that it was 
wasteful, but he wanted her to put them in the 
silver sugarpot, and make the table look bright. 

The first wildflowers they found were the 
dandelions. What fun they had making dandelion 
beads out of the stems! And later on, when the 
stems grew longer, they split them into long curls. 

In their new home, they did not forget the 
English flowers, but watched eagerly for the 
hollyhocks and larkspurs to grow, which their 
mothers had planted. All the spring seemed to 
them full of delight. 


1J2 


School 


m 


“The best thing about it,” said Bart, one day 
when they were all playing near the common 



house, “is that they haven’t yet put us to 
studying.” 

“I believe they have forgotten all about it,” 
said Wrestling. 

“I have forgotten all I know, except the rime 
about the months. 

“‘Thirty days hath September, April, June, and 
November; February has twenty-eight alone, and 
all the rest have thirty-one.’” 


174 


Little Pioneers 


Bart began to jump up and down, singing: 

“ ‘ Multiplication is vexation, 

Division is as bad ; 

The Rule of Three doth puzzle me, 

And Practice makes me mad.’ ” 

Then he suddenly stopped. There in the 
doorway of the common house stood his father, 
frowning at him. 

“What is this I hear?” he said. “I have been 
told there are foolish men who make grammars 
in rime, and arithmetics in rime. I had yet to 
hear my own son saying naughty talk in rime.” 

Bart stood still, afraid of what the next words 
would be. 

“It seems that these children have been away 
from books long enough. Governor Bradford,” 
said Mr. Allerton, as the governor came out of 
the common house. “They are dancing, and 
singing foolish rimes. I doubt if they can say the 
multiplication table . ’ ’ 

“I trust they have not forgotten that,” said 
the governor, gently. “But ’tis high time they 
had schooling. Elder Brewster can give them 
Latin, I doubt not.” 

“And Priscilla will give them reading and 
writing and arithmetic. She writes a fair, fine 
hand,” said Mr. Allerton. “We must speak to 
her, and begin on the morrow.” 


School 


175 


Bart felt very doleful, but Love was glad. 

“I want to learn Latin,” he said; “and I want 
not to forget how to read. There are some big 
words in father’s Bible that I could not spell out 
on Sunday.” 

“You will like going to school, Bart, when 
Priscilla teaches you,” said Wrestling. “You 
know you write a poor hand.” 

Meantime, Mr. Allerton had gone into Elder 
Brewster’s house. Soon Priscilla came out and 
approached the boys. 

“I am to give you lessons in reading and 
writing,” she said. 

“But, Priscilla,” replied Bart, “there is very 
little ink powder left.” 

When Elder Brewster and Governor Bradford 
wished to write, they dissolved ink powder in water. 

“I will make you ink,^’ Priscilla said. “You 
boys must cut me some of the bark of the swamp 
maple. Then I will boil it till it is thick, and 
dilute it with copperas.” 

“Will it be black?” asked Love. 

“Not very black,” said Priscilla. “Later on, 
when the flower beds have grown up, we can get 
red ink from tfie bloodroot.” 

“But what shall we write and cipher on?” 
Love asked. “Father can never spare any from 
our small store of paper.” 


176 


Little Pioneers 


“No, in truth; why should our awkward scrawls 
waste good fair paper?” Priscilla said. “We shall 
use birch bark, to be sure.” 

Bart looked cheerful when he heard this. He 
thought he should like copy books made of birch 
bark. That very afternoon the children went to 
the woods and cut a pile of birch bark. They 
made it into thin, square leaves, and fastened 
these into books by means of birch-bark string, 
run through holes at the top of each page. Each 
of the children had a book, and there was an extra 
one for Priscilla. They showed them to her, and 
she asked, “Have you all pens?” 

“I never thought of pens,” said Bart. 

There was only one way to make a pen, and 
that was to cut it from a goose quill, with the 
feather left on the handle. Elder Brewster gave 
a bundle of quills to Love, and John Alden cut 
them into shape. 

Bart wanted to try, but John was afraid to 
let him. 

“It takes great skill,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll 
let you try the next time we make any,” and John 
gave a pen to each child. 

The next morning the children went to school in 
Elder Brewster’s house. They sat on the benches 
and the two stools, while Priscilla sat in the elder’s 
carved chair. 


School 


177 


First of all she set Bart and Love and Mary and 
the other children at a writing lesson. She wrote 
a pretty line in each birch-bark book, and told 
her pupils to copy it. Then she took two horn 
books and began to teach Remember and Resolved 
their letters. They had never seen a horn book, 
though the other children had. 

A horn book was really not a book at all, but 
just a single page. A piece of wood, two by four 
inches, had a sheet of paper a little smaller pasted 
on it. On this page was printed the alphabet, in 
large and small letters; then syllables like ah, 
ob; and then the Lord’s prayer. Over this page 
was then laid a thin sheet of yellow-green horn, 
through which the letters could be seen. The 
horn and paper were fastened to the wood round 
the edges by a narrow strip of brass, which was 
tacked down by tiny nails. At the lower end of 
the wooden back was a little handle with a hole in it. 

“That used to be my book,” whispered Bart. 
“I had a string in the hole, and used to hang the 
book around my neck.” 

“No whispering,” said Priscilla. “Keep to 
your writing, Bart.” 

She pointed at the letters of the horn book with 
her knitting needle, and did her best to teach the 
little ones. After a time she brought out a sweet- 
cake, on which she had traced the alphabet in large 


12 


Little Pioneers 


178 

letters. When they had the cake to look at, 
Remember and Resolved found that the letters 
were easy to learn. 

Meanwhile Bart had finished his copy, and had 
turned to the last page of his book. On it he 
wrote : 

“Bart Allerton: His Book 
If this you see 
Remember me.” 

Then Love thought of a verse he had seen in a 
book of his father’s. So he wrote: 

“Love Brewster: His Book 
God give Him Grace therein to look ; 

Not only to look, but to understand 
That Learning is better than House or Land. 
When Land is Gone and Money spent, 

Then Learning is most excellent.” 

Priscilla did not scold them for these rimes. 
She looked at the writing, and said they had done 
very well for a beginning. Then she repeated a 
psalm, and asked the children to spell the words. 
Her spelling was not very accurate. In the seven- 
teenth century different people sometimes spelled 
the same word in several different ways. But she 
carried out the lesson to the best of her ability. 

After that she had an arithmetic lesson. She 
chose this example: Fifteen Christians and fif- 
teen pagans were at sea in one and the same 


School 


179 


ship in a terrible storm. The pilot declared it 
was necessary to cast one half of those persons into 
the sea that the rest might be saved. They all 
agreed that the persons to be cast away should be 
set out by lot after this manner : the thirty persons 
should be placed in a round form, like a ring, and 
then the count should be made, and every ninth 
person should be cast into the sea, until of the 
thirty persons there remained only fifteen. The 
problem was how those thirty persons ought to 
be placed that the lot might fall upon the fifteen 
pagans and not upon any of the fifteen Christians. 

Love and Bart worked hard, but they could not 
get any answer. Then Priscilla said that school 
had held long enough, and that they might work 
at the sum another time. 

After Love and Bart had gone into Leiden 
Street they did not begin to play. They were 
still deeply interested in the problem of the 
Christians and the pagans. They went down to 
the shore and worked it out with pebbles, using 
white pebbles for the Christians and dark pebbles 
for the pagans. 

“But it is not a pleasant sum,” Love said. “I 
do not think the pagans should be drowned any 
more than the Christians. I will ask Priscilla to 
call them good and bad ears of com, and to have 
nothing worse befall them than to be picked.” 


i8o 


Little Pioneers 


During the rest of the spring, school lasted for 
two hours every day. 

The children worked diligently, the girls learning 
sewing as well as reading. Damaris was given 
a long, narrow linen sampler, on which she was 
to work the letters of the alphabet. Mary and 
Ellen More, being older, had to embroider a verse 



They went down to the shore and worked it out 
with pebbles 


of the Bible on theirs. The one they chose was: 
“Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee 
a crown of life.” Priscilla thought that was a 
good verse for little pioneers. 

Part of the time, when the children thought 
they were playing they really were learning. This 
was when Squanto showed them how to make 


School 


i8i 

things. First of all, he showed them how to make 
maple- wood dishes. The maple was very soft 
and satiny on its surface, and the women were 
glad to have it turned into trenchers and bowls. 
Then Squanto taught the children to braid mats, 
but their work was much coarser than his. He 
showed them how to make baskets out of grass 
and of willow. He helped Damaris make a fine 
cradle for her doll. Once when Damaris brought 
him her horn book he got a piece of horn and 
showed the children how the Indians made horn 
spoons. That year the boys made several, to take 
the place of John Billington’s clam-shell spoons. 

Boys and girls, both, learned to make moccasins, 
and they were thankful to have them in place of 
their worn-out shoes. The moccasins were soft 
to their feet, and easy to walk in. 

But perhaps the most useful thing the children 
learned in Squanto ’s school was to make birch 
brooms. The hemlock brooms which John Alden 
and Bart and Love had made were not very 
lasting. Squanto took the children to the woods 
one day, and chose a young birch tree, perhaps six 
inches in diameter. He cut it off and made it 
into a stick about six feet long. Then, about 
fifteen inches from the big end, he slashed a line. 
The shorter part he cut with a sharp knife into 
thin slivers. For fifteen inches above the line he 


i 82 


Little Pioneers 


cut other slivers, and tied them down with a 
string over the first lot of slivers. Then he 
trimmed the edges off evenly. Lastly, he cut the 
top part of the broom into handle shape. 

Now and then John Alden added a lesson. He 
taught the boys to make little shoe pegs. They 
also made very large wooden pegs to be used in 
house building. There were very few nails in 
Plymouth, and they were felt to be almost as 
rare as gold. So that, with what Priscilla and 
John and Squanto taught them, the children 
learned a great deal that spring. But Bart kept 
longing for harvest time, for then he knew that 
every one would be too busy to think of school. 


CHAPTER XVI 


The Adventure of John Billington 

I T WAS a warm day toward the end of June. 

Love and Bart were going to school, when 
they met John Billington on the street without 
his copybook or pen. 

“You must hurry, John, or you will be late,” 
called Bart. 

“I don’t want to go to school,” grumbled John. 
“I want to go to the woods for strawberries.” 

“John Alden and Squanto are going to take us 
this afternoon,” Love said. 

John did not answer. He turned slowly in 
the direction of Elder Brewster’s house. Then 
suddenly he began to run toward the woods. 

“I don’t want to stay in that hot room and 
write,” he said. “I’ll find a great bed of berries, 
and eat them. I’ll stay in the woods all day.” 

He did not stop to think what would happen to 
him at the end of the day. Entering the woods, he 
ran along one of the paths which the pioneers had 
beaten. Now and then he stopped to pick a 
flower, or listen to a bird. Sometimes he looked 
about him for Indians. He walked and ran two 
or three miles before he found any berries. Then 


184 


Little Pioneers 


he came upon a large strawberry bed. The ripen- 
ing fruit nestled in the green leaves in a very 
tempting way. John thought he had never 
tasted anything quite so good. He ate berry 
after berry. 

Then he saw another bed a little way beyond. 
He went to it, 'but before he ate he saw another 
patch that looked still richer. He kept wandering 
on and on until noon. Then he ate some more 
berries. After that he felt a little tired. So he 
lay down under a big oak tree, and slept. 

It was the middle of the afternoon when he 
woke. The sun was still bright and high, and 
the woods were full of pretty bird sounds. John 
felt ready for more berries. He walked a long 
way, picking berries here and there. Soon he got 
to a thick part of the wood, through which the 
sun could scarcely come. He hurried, because 
he wanted to get back into the bright daylight. 

But by this time the sun was beginning to sink. 
All at once John realized that he did' not know 
where he was. He had never been so far from the 
settlement before. Turning quickly, he ran back 
through the patch of dark woods. But now he 
could not remember where he had entered it. 

Frightened and crying, he ran along as fast 
as he could. He saw some strawberry beds, and 
thought at first they were those he had eaten from. 


The Adventure of John Billington 185 

But after a little while he came to the conclusion 
that they were beds he had not passed before. 

By this time it was getting dark. John began 
to shout for help, for now he realized that he was 
lost. Presently he stopped shouting. What if 
unfriendly Indians heard him, and took him 
prisoner? Captain Standish had said that there 
were unfriendly Indians even down on the coast. 
Perhaps these Indians would find him. 

How he wished now that he had gone to school 
with Love and Bart ! He could shut his eyes and 
see the pioneers all safe at home. Probably the 
evening meal was over. No doubt Bart and Love 
were studying Latin by the light of a pine knot, 
and the little girls were knitting or working their 
samplers. Soon they would all be going to bed. 

Poor John began to cry harder than before. 
What would happen to him here alone in the 
woods? Perhaps the wolves would come, or a 
bear. He crouched up against the roots of a big 
tree, and almost held his breath, listening for the 
sound of a bear’s heavy tread, or watching to see 
the bright eyes of a wolf. But all he heard was 
the crackling of a twig now and then, or the call of 
an owl. Then he began to be afraid of the silence. 

He cried until he was too tired to cry any more. 
Then he clasped his arms around his knees and 
rested his head on them. By degrees he swayed. 


i86 


Little Pioneers 


and nodded, and soon he lay down on the grass 
and slept. 

He waked up just as the birds began their first 



Poor John began to cry harder 
than before 


cheeping, and when the light was cold and gray. 
For a moment he felt he was in his bed at home. 
He sat up, expecting to see the log walls, and the 


The Adventure of John Billington 187 

chest on which he placed his clothes at night. 
But what he looked at was the great still woods, 
with trunk after trunk ascending to a roof of green 
leaves. 

Then he remembered, and the tears came to his 
eyes. But the gray light grew warm and golden, 
and the birds began to sing, and John grew more 
cheerful. He thought he would eat a few berries 
for breakfast, and then find his way home. It 
was not long before he came to a fine strawberry 
bed. He ate as much as he wanted. Then he set 
off for home. But he was not sure of his direction, 
and though he walked and walked, he did not see 
a tree or bush that he had ever seen before. 

The morning passed, noon came, and he had 
to make his dinner of berries. By this time he 
was longing for a piece of meat or fish, and one 
of Priscilla’s sweet cakes. He was very tired of 
strawberries. 

In the afternoon he walked miles and miles, 
as it seemed to him, but still he could not find his 
way out of the woods. At last, in the middle of 
the afternoon, he heard the barking of a dog. He 
gave a joyful shout and ran in the direction of the 
sounds. He was sure it was one of the two dogs 
the Puritans owned. 

“Here I am!” he called. 

He ran through a clump of trees, and there 


i88 


Little Pioneers 


stood a party of Indians. John stared at them and 
they stared at him. He was too surprised to run. 

Then he remembered that the governor had 
said the pioneers must always be quick to show 
friendliness to an Indian. So he went up to the 
Indian who seemed to be the leader of the party, 
and gravely shook hands with him, and bowed. 
He searched in his pockets to see if he had anything 
he could use for presents, but all he could find was 
his top and copybook. He gave them to the In- 
dian, who took them and examined them gravely. 

The Indians talked among themselves, and 
John saw with relief that they were not going to 
hurt him. The leader made him a sign to fol- 
low. John hoped they were subjects of Massa- 
soit, and would take him home. He tramped 
along bravely, just behind the chief. He looked 
back once or twice, and saw the Indians coming 
one after another, in a long string. After two 
hours of walking John was very tired, but though 
he was a disobedient boy, he was a fairly brave 
one. He walked on without complaint. 

It was almost sunset when the Indians reached 
a camp. The leader shouted, and all the Indians 
of the camp came hurrying toward them. The 
first thing John saw was the shapes of the wig- 
wams, and the light of a camp fire. Then he saw 
the figures of men, and women, and children. He 


The Adventure of John Billington i8g 

shut his eyes, afraid they were going to hurt him. 

When he opened them again the men and 
women were crowding around him, fingering his 
clothes. Their faces were friendly. He bowed 
to them several times, and they seemed pleased 
with his good manners. 

An old Indian woman took him by the hand 
and led him to a place by the fire. John sat down. 



An old Indian women led John to a place by the fire 


IQO 


Little Pioneers 


and when she bent over a kettle and got a piece 
of meat for him, he took it very thankfully. All 
evening, different Indian boys and girls came up 
and looked at him. When he grew sleepy, the 
old Indian woman took him to a wigwam. He 
crawled in, lay down on a deerskin in the comer, 
and went to sleep at once. 

In the morning he was awakened by shouting. 
He ran out of his wigwam in alarm, but it was only 
the young Indians at play. John watched them 
eagerly. They were playing a game of ball which 
Squanto had told him about. They were divided 
into two sides. Each side had a goal made of 
two upright posts, with a pole across the top. 
These goals were about fifty yards apart. John 
saw that each player had two sticks with which 
he caught and struck at the ball. The object 
of the play seemed to be for each side to get to 
the other’s goal. 

John was so interested that he almost forgot 
about breakfast. After the old Indian woman 
had given him something to eat he went back 
to see the ball game, but it was over. 

Before long, however, he saw some of the 
younger boys wrestling. John had always sup- 
posed wrestling matches went by twos. But 
these Indian boys were divided into two sides, with 
about fifteen on a side. John noted that whenever 


The Adventure of John Billington igi 

a boy sat down on the ground he was let alone, but 
as long as he was standing he was open to attack. 
John thought this a very sensible plan. 

Soon the old woman took John by the hand, 
and led him toward a cornfield. On the way 
they were joined by a younger woman, who had 
an Indian baby on her back. It was the first time 
John had ever seen a papoose. He observed 
that the little thing was strapped on a board two 
and a half feet long, fifteen inches wide at the 
top, and nine inches across at the bottom. A 
hoop went over the baby’s face, and it was tied 
to its mother by means of a broad band of deer- 
skin which was fastened around her forehead. 

When they reached the field the mother 
unstrapped the baby, and hung it by the straps 
to a tree near by. The baby stared at John with 
round black eyes, and he stared back at it. He 
sat and looked at it a long time, while the women 
worked in the cornfield. 

Then he joined them, and tried to help them. 
But all the while he was wondering when they 
would take him to the settlement. 

He was kept in the camp for two or three days. 
Then some of the Indians who had found him took 
him on a journey, lasting several hours, to another 
camp. 

The Indians in this camp seemed to John very 


ig2 


Little Pioneers 


richly dressed; many of them wore belts orna- 
mented with shellwork. Their wigwams were 
made of deerskin, and inside these were many 
baskets woven in various colors, and bowls and 
other dishes of red and black. When John 
arrived the Indians were holding a feast. They 
were beating drums and dancing. John saw 
that the drums were pieees of rawhide stretehed 
over hoops. Some drums had one side, and some 
had two. He notieed that some of the Indians 
were shaking rattles made of hard hide, inclosing 
stones. Their daneing was very eurious, much of 
it being done in a stooping attitude. 

They showed the same interest in John that the 
other Indians had shown. They gave him food, 
and a neeklaee of beads. To please them, John 
put it on. Then one after another gave him 
necklaces and braeelets of beads. Poor John 
felt very ridiculous, but he put on all the presents, 
till his neek and chest and arms were almost 
eovered with beads. 

He was glad when he could go to bed. He slept 
in his clothes and beads, for he was afraid the 
Indians would be angry if he took off any of their 
presents. He was very tired of the feasting and 
attentions of the Indians, and went to sleep won- 
dering if they would ever take him home, or if 
they meant to keep him always. 


The Adventure of John Billington igj 

Meantime, at Plymouth, John had not been 
missed till the evening of the day he ran away. 
When he did not come home to dinner at noon 
his mother supposed he had stayed after school 
to dinner at Elder Brewster’s. But when he did 
not come home to supper she went to look for him. 
From what Love and Bart said, she realized that 
John had gone to the woods. 

After supper, some of the men made up a search- 
ing party. They were tired out with a long day’s 
work, and it was hard for them to have to go to 
the woods. They stayed out several hours, but 
could find no trace of John. Early in the morning, 
Squanto and Giles Hopkins set out to look for him. 

Squanto’s trained eyes soon discovered traces 
of John. These they followed to the spot where 
he had met the Indians. Here again Squanto’s 
keen sense made him aware of what had happened. 
So they went back and told the governor that John 
had been carried off by the Indians. 

“There is but one thing to do,” said Governor 
Bradford; “though we can ill spare them, two or 
three of our men must go for him. We cannot 
afford to lose any of our colony.” 

John’s mother longed to go, but she knew that 
was impossible. The governor headed a party 
of men, taking Squanto and another Indian with 
them. John’s father was one of the number. 

13 


194 


Little Pioneers 


They decided to go by sea, as they could overtake 
the Indians who had John Billington more quickly 
by sea than by land. It was fair weather when 
they set out, but soon a strong wind rose, thunder 
cracked, lightning flashed, and rain fell heavily. 
In the distance they saw a water spout coming 
rapidly toward them, and for a few moments they 
thought that they were lost. But the water 
spout passed by, the storm died down, and they 
landed safely at a place called Cummaquaid. 

Here they met lyanough, a gentle Indian chief, 
who told them that John was at Nanset. 
lyanough gave them food and showed them great 
kindness. While they were eating, an old, old 
Indian woman came in. She was bent and 
wrinkled, and her long scattered hair was snow 
white. She hobbled up to the white men, and 
looked into the faces of each. Then she began 
to cry, and tear her hair. 

“What ails the poor woman, Squanto?” asked 
the governor. 

“This old woman once had three sons,” replied 
Squanto. “They killed deer for her and snared 
wild fowl, and she was very proud of them. Then 
that wicked Englishman who stole me, stole them, 
and sold them for slaves in Spain.” 

“Poor thing,” said the governor. 

“She has never seen them since,” went on 


The Adventure of John Billington ig^ 

Squanto, “and she wanted to see what white men 
look like who steal sons away from a mother.” 

“We must give the poor woman some trinkets, 
Giles,” said the governor. 

They gave the woman two earrings, a bra^celet, 
and a copper chain. She took them, and her 
crying died down to a weak wailing. They all 
felt relieved when she went away to her wigwam. 

The Englishmen stayed all night with lyanough, 
and the next day he and two of his Indians 
accompanied them in the boat to Nanset. Here 
lyanough and his men went to see the chief of the 
Nanset tribe, whose name was Aspinet. Governor 
Bradford sent Squanto, that he might tell Aspinet 
that the Englishmen had come for the boy, John 
Billington. 

The white men remained off shore in the shallop. 
Soon many Indians came down to the water, and 
begged them, by signs, to land. The Englishmen 
refused. But as the tide was going out, the shallop 
was soon aground. Then the Indians swarmed ^ 
about them. The governor did not trust them 
wholly, for they belonged to the same tribe as the 
Indians with whom they had had the first 
encounter. 

Finally the governor allowed two of the Indians 
to enter the boat. One of these was the Indian 
whose com the pioneers had taken in their early 


ig6 Little Pioneers 

explorations. They promised to pay him, and 
said they would bring him com or he could come 
to the settlement for it. He promised to come. 
While the Indians stood about the boat, the English- 
men got a few skins by trading trinkets for them. 

A little after sunset they saw the chief Aspinet 
walking toward them, followed by about a hundred 
Indians. One of these was carrying John Billing- 
ton, who was still loaded with his glass beads. 
Half of the Indians splashed through the water, 
escorting John to the boat. The other half stood 
on the beach, holding their bows and arrows. The 
governor told Squanto what to say to Aspinet. 
Aspinet said he was a friend of the Englishmen, 
and had been holding the boy as a guest. Then 
the white men and the Indians made peace. The 
governor gave a knife to Aspinet, and another to 
the Indian who had carried John. 

Then the Englishmen got their boat off, saying 
good-by to lyanough, who went home by land. 

When they were well away from shore the 
governor drew a long breath. 

“I felt our danger,” he said. 

“Aye,” replied John Billington’s father. “The 
foolish boy has cost us enough trouble.” 

All this time no one had spoken to John, except 
his father. He sat very meekly in the stem of the 
boat, not saying a word. 


The Adventure of John Billington igy 

‘‘We can be thankful he is saved from death,” 
said the governor. 

“But that will not spare him a good whipping 
when I get him home,” said Mr. Billington. “He 
shall cut the birch rods himself, and see that they 
are good stout ones.” 

John had expected no less than this. But he 
was so glad to be going home that he would have 
taken a whipping every day for a week without 
complaint. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Squanto’s Stories 

S ometimes, when the children were resting 
after dinner, Squanto would tell them stories. 
They would all sit or lie in the shade, listening 
attentively to every word he spoke. Mary Aller- 
ton, who liked to have her hands busy, usually 
sewed or knitted. Squanto had shown her how 
the squaws sewed skins with needles made from 
fishbones and thread made from the bark of trees. 

One day it rained very hard, and the children 
could not work out of doors. They were sitting in 
the common house, wishing the weather would clear. 

“If this rain keeps on,” Bart said, “the land will 
turn into the sea, and the fish will go swimming 
among the trees.” 

“Oh, Squanto,” Love said, “will you not repeat 
the tale you told me once, about a giant who 
caught a whale?” 

“That is the story: of Glooskap and the giant 
Kitpooseagunow,” said Squanto. “One time 
Glooskap was visiting the giant, who said to him, 
‘Let us go out on the sea in a canoe and catch 
whales by torchlight.’ So Glooskap agreed, for 
he liked to fish. 


Squanto's Stories 


igg 


“When they came to the beach there were only 
great rocks to be seen. The giant lifted the very 
largest of these and put it on his head. At once 
it turned into a canoe. He picked up another* 



Squanto would tell them stories 


one, which was much smaller, and it turned into 
a paddle. He also split a long splinter of rock 
from a ledge, and that turned into a spear. Then 
Glooskap asked, ‘Who will sit in the stern and 
paddle, and who will take the spear?’ The giant 


200 


Little Pioneers 


said, ‘I will take the spear.’ So Glooskap sat in 
the stern and paddled. Soon the canoe passed 
over a mighty whale. In all the great sea there 
was not his like. The giant sent his spear like a 
thunderbolt down into the waters, and as the 
handle rose again to sight, he snatched it up, and 
lo, the great fish was caught. 

“As the giant whirled the spear on high, the 
whale, roaring, touched the very clouds. Then 
he took the whale from the point of his spear, 
and tossed him into the canoe as if he had been 
a little trout. And he and Glooskap laughed so 
loud that they could be heard throughout the 
whole land. Then they went home, and the giant 
took a stone knife, and he split the whale in two. 
One half he threw to Glooskap, and the other 
half he kept. Each roasted his piece over the 
fire and ate it.” 

“Ah, it all comes back to me as you speak,” 
said Love. “But I liked better the story of the 
Rabbit. Tell that.” 

“The Rabbit lived with his grandmother,” 
said Squanto. “He was always waiting for better 
times. And truly, he found it hard when the snow 
was on the ground in midwinter to provide even 
for his little household. One day when he was 
running through the forest he came to the lonely 
wigwam of the Otter. It was on the bank of a 


Squanto's Stories 


201 


river, and a smooth road of ice slanted from the 
door down to the water. The Otter welcomed 
the Rabbit, and told his housekeeper to get ready 
to cook. Then the Otter took the hooks on 
which he put fish when he could catch them, and 
went out to get food for dinner. 

“He stood on the top of the slide, and coasted 
down into the water and disappeared from sight. 
Presently he came up again with a big bunch of 
eels. The housekeeper soon cooked them, and 
all three dined. 

“‘Oh,’ thought the Rabbit, ‘what an easy way 
of getting a living ! Truly these fishing folk have 
fine fare, and cheap. I surely can do as well as 
this Otter, for I am so very much cleverer.’ The 
Rabbit felt so confident of himself that he invited 
the Otter to dine with him in three days. Then 
he went home. 

“The next day he said to his grandmother, 
‘Let us move our home down by the lake.’ So 
they moved, and he chose a spot like the Otter’s, 
and he made a road of ice down to the water. On 
the third day the guest came, and the Rabbit told 
his grandmother to get ready to cook the dinner. 
‘What am I to cook?’ said she. ‘Oh, I shall see 
to that,’ he said. 

‘ ‘ He took a stick on which to string eels. Then 
he went to the ice-slide, and tried to slide down as 


202 


Little Pioneers 


if he were used to it. But he went first to this 
side and then to that side, and at last he bobbed 
into the water. But as all rabbits are bad 
swimmers and divers, he lost his breath and was 
nearly drowned. ‘What is the matter with him?’ 
asked the Otter. ‘Oh,’ said the old grandmother, 
‘ he has seen somebody trying to do something, and 
he is trying to do likewise.’ 

“ ‘Come out,’ cried the Otter, ‘and give me your 
stick.’ So poor Rabbit, almost frozen, came out 
and limped into the lodge. The Otter plunged 
into the water and soon returned with a load of 
eels, but he was so disgusted with the Rabbit for 
trying to do something which was beyond him 
that he threw down the fish and went off home 
without staying to dinner. 

“Now the Rabbit, though he was disappointed, 
was not discouraged. He had one great virtue; 
he never gave up. One day when he was 
wandering through the wilderness he found a 
wigwam filled with young women all wearing red 
headdresses, and no wonder, for they were 
Woodpeckers. They invited him to stay to 
dinner, which he did. Then one of the Wood- 
peckers took a wooden dish, lightly climbed a tree, 
and tapped here and there on it. As she tapped, 
she took from the tree the insects which look like 
rice, and which Woodpeckers so much love. 


Squanto's Stories 


203 


“This rice they boiled, and all ate of it. Rabbit 
thought, ‘Why should not I do that?’ So he in- 
vited the Woodpeckers to come and dine with 
him in two days. On the day appointed they 
appeared. Rabbit took the head of an eel spear 
and fastened it to his nose to make a bill. Then 
he climbed the tree as well as he could, and that 
was very badly. He tried hard to get rice in- 
sects, but did not succeed. He bruised his poor 
head so with the spear point that it was as red 
as a woodpecker’s. The pretty birds watched 
him, and wondered what he was trying to do. 

“‘Oh,’ said his grandmother, ‘I suppose he is 
again trying to do something which he has seen 
some one else do. It is just like him.’ 

“‘Come down,’ cried a pretty Woodpecker. 
‘Give me your dish.’ She took it, and ran up the 
trunk and soon brought down a dinner. They 
stayed with him and ate it; but they laughed at 
him all the time for what he had tried to do. 

“As soon as Rabbit gave up trying to imitate 
other people he did very well. He found out 
that he had a gift for studying magic, and he grew 
to be a great conjurer, the greatest in the land.” 

The children liked this story. Then Mary 
Allerton asked for her favorite. 

“Tell us about the Indian who needed water, 
Squanto,” she said. 


204 


Little Pioneers 


“That is a good tale,” Squanto replied. “I 
will tell it. Once there were Indians who lived 
in a little village by the side of a brook. Except 
in this brook there was not a drop of water any- 
where around, unless in a few mud puddles. 
Now all these Indians were fond of good water, 
and liked their little brook. After a while they 
saw that their brook was beginning to run low. 
They were surprised, for it was autumn, and 
had been raining. Yet the water of the brook 
dwindled more and more until there was none left. 

“So at last they sent one of their number to 
go up into the country above them and see why 
the brook flowed no more as it used to do. 

“The man set out, and after he had traveled 
three days he came to a place where he found the 
water stopped by a dam. And all the water was 
held in a pond. So he went to the people who 
lived there and asked them why they had dammed 
up the water, since it was of no use to them to 
keep it all in a pond there. They told him to 
go ask their chief; for he it was who had ordered 
them to build the dam. 

‘When he came to the chief he was surprised; 
for the chief was a great giant, shaped like a 
man, but with big yellow eyes, sticking out like 
pine knots, and a mouth cut from ear to ear, and 
great broad feet, with long, skinny toes. As soon 


Squanto's Stories 


205 


as the man could get over his surprise he com- 
plained to the chief about the water. At first the 
giant said nothing; but at last he croaked, and 
then bellowed: 

“‘Do as you choose, 

Do as you choose. 

Do as you choose. 

“‘What do I care? 

What do I care? 

What do I care? 

“‘If you want water, 

If you want water, 

If you want water, 

Go somewhere else.’ 

“Then the Indian told how the people were 
suffering for want of water; but that only pleased 
the giant the more, and he grinned with his wide 
mouth; and at last, taking an arrow, he bored a 
little hole through the dam so a tiny stream of 
water trickled through. Then he bellowed out: 

“‘Up and begone. 

Up and begone. 

Up and begone.’ 

“So the man went home. He found a little 
water in the stream, but in a few days that, too, 
stopped. Then the Indians determined that they 
would endure it no longer. So they decided to 
send the boldest man among them to certain 


2o6 


Little Pioneers 


death. For he must go up the stream and force 
the enemies to cut the dam, or do some desperate 
deed that would frighten them into doing what 
he asked. And he must go armed, and singing 
his death song. 

“Now while they were planning these things, 
Glooskap came among them, though none of them 
knew it; for ever he came as the wind comes, no 
man knew how. And Glooskap was pleased with 
them, for he loved brave men. And so he sud- 
denly appeared, looking ten feet tall. He wore a 
hundred red and black feathers in his scalplock, 
and his face was painted red, with green rings 
around his eyes, and from his ears hung great 
clam shells, and at the back of his neck flapped a 
great eagle, with wings spread. So that Glooskap 
looked very fierce and handsome. And he told 
them he would set all their troubles to rights. 

“Accordingly, he went up the bed of the stream 
till he came to the dam. Then he sat down on the 
bank and called a boy and said, ‘Bring me some 
water. ’ 

“And the boy said, “You can have none except 
from the chief.’ 

“‘Go then to your chief,’ said Glooskap, ‘and 
bid him hurry or I shall know the reason why.’ 

“More than an hour he waited, and then the 
boy came back with a small cup of very dirty 


Squanto 's Stories 207 

water. Then Glooskap rose and said, ‘I will 
go to the chief, and I think he will soon give me 
better water than this.’ 

“Glooskap came to the monster, and said: 

“‘Give me to drink, you thing of mud, and 
that at once, and of the best!’ 

“But the monster only croaked and said, ‘Get 
hence to find water where you can.’ 

“Then Glooskap thrust his spear into the 
monster, and lo ! there gushed out a mighty river ; 
for the monster had drunk up the waters of the 
brook, and made it into himself. Then Glooskap, 
rising as high as a pine, seized the chief in his 
hands, and crumpled in his back with a mighty 
grip. And lo! it was the bullfrog. Then Gloos- 
kap flung him back to live in the water. 

“And ever since, that the bullfrog’s back has 
crumpled wrinkles in the lower part, showing 
where he was squeezed in Glooskap ’s hand. Then 
Glooskap went back to the village; but he found 
no one there — not a soul. A strange thing had 
happened. As the thirsty people thought how 
good it would be to have water again, they said 
to one another : ‘ What would you do if you had 
all the nice cold, sparkling water in the world ? ’ 

“And one said, ‘ I would live in the soft mud and 
always be wet and cool.’ 

“And another said, ‘I would be washed up and 


208 


Little Pioneers 


down by the rippling waves, living on land, yet 
ever in the water.’ 

“And another said, ‘I would live in the water, 
and swim about in it forever.’ 

“Now there is a certain hour which passes over 
the world when every wish that is spoken comes 
true. And it was in this hour that these wishes 
were spoken. 

“Therefore the first became a leech, and the 
second a crab, washed up and down by the tide, 
and the third a fish. And so were made the first 
creatures that ever dwelt in the waters. And the 
river came rushing down, and they all went down 
to the sea, to be washed into many lands all over 
the world.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


The Flax Workers 

/^NE morning in July, Bart and Love got up 
bright and early and hurried through their 
chores. Squanto had promised to take them to 
look for early blackberries. But just when they 
were setting out with their baskets, the governor 
stopped them. 

“I am sorry to disappoint you, children,” he 
said, “but you cannot go berrying to-day. You 
must work in the flax fleld.” 

Though the boys were disappointed they did 
not show their feelings to the governor. Old and 
young pioneers were used to giving up their own 
plans for the good of their settlement. But when 
they set out for the flax fleld they looked longingly 
after Squanto, as he went away with the girls 
and the smaller boys. 

“Do you remember how glad we were in May 
when the men said they would plant a patch of 
flax, and one of hemp?” Love said. 

“Yes,” replied Bart. “I love to see the pretty 
blue flowers of the flax; though the hemp is ugly.” 

“So do I,” said Love. 

“And the women were glad that they would have 


14 


20Q 


210 


Little Pioneers 


the thread to spin. And we were glad because 
the fields were put in our care.” 

“John Alden says we have done well,” said 
Bart. “And I liked the work at first. I liked 
to scatter the seed broadcast.” 

“When the little plants came up,” said Love, 
“I liked the work of weeding. I liked to walk 
barefoot among the tender little plants, so that 
we should not crush them.” 

“Do you remember,” said Bart, “when John 
Billington stepped into the thistles? Then Pris- 
cilla made us wear woolen stockings to save our 
feet.” 

“And do you remember how John would forget 
to step facing the wind? He could not remember 
that John Alden told him to face the wind, so 
that if he stepped on any plants the wind would 
help blow them back into place.” 

“Who speaks of John Alden?” asked Alden’s 
deep voice. “What, lads, downcast faces? Nay, 
then, you do men’s work, and must have men’s 
courage. There will be other days for berries.” 

“Aye, and other days for flax, I fear,” said Bart. 

“True,” said John, “first for you, and then for 
the girls. But the work for to-day is not hard.” 

They entered the field, and began to follow 
John’s example of pulling up the flax by the roots. 
They were at least glad that they were working 


The Flax Workers 


2II 


in the flax fleld rather than in the hemp fleld. 
John showed them how to lay out the roots so 
that they could dry in the sun. All day long the 
boys worked in the field, till their backs and arms 
ached. Several times during the day they turned 
the roots, so that they could be thoroughly dried 
by the sun. This work was called pulling and 
spreading. 

The flax was left in the sun all the next day, 
and the boys went blackberrying. But the day 
after that John asked them if they did not want 
to ripple the flax. 

“What does rippling mean?” asked Love. 

“Oh, I know what that is,” Bart said. “Father 
showed me the ripple comb yesterday. I saw the 
men carrying it to the field this morning.” 

Bart led the way to the field, and pointed out 
the ripple comb to Love. 

It was a coarse, wooden comb, with great teeth 
fastened on a plank. Underneath it was spread 
a sheet. 

“Now watch me,” said John Alden. He took 
a few stalks of flax, drew them through the comb 
with a quick stroke, and broke off the “bobs” of 
seed, which fell on the sheet. 

“That looks easy,” said Love. 

He boldly seized some stalks, and drew them 
through the comb. But he broke them, instead 


212 


Little Pioneers 


of freeing the bobs. Bart tried, and he succeeded 
in neatly breaking off his “bobs,” for he was more 
skillful with his hands than Love. 

“Never mind; try again, Love,” said John. 
“Take care; stand so that you won’t step on the 
seeds. We must get Remember and Resolved 
to pick these up, after a while, and put them away 
for our next crop.” 

Love tried again, and this time he succeeded. 
He began to like the work. 

“Do we ripple the hemp, too?” he asked. 

“No, only the flax,” replied John. “You’ll 
And yourself busy enough rippling the flax. Love.” 

He was right. After a while Love and Bart 
grew very tired. John let them change work with 
Giles Hopkins, who had been tying the stalks 
into bundles. 

This was easy work. They tied the bundles 
at the seed end, and let them spread out at the 
other end. Thus the bundles were in the shape 
of tents. Rippling and tying was not very diffi- 
cult work, but it was not interesting, so Love and 
Bart were glad when all the flax and the hemp, 
too, was tied into bundles. 

The men left the bundles to dry a little longer, 
and then John said it was time to water them. 

“We must rot away the leaves and soft fibers,” 
he said, “so as to have the flax quite clean.” 


The Flax Workers 


213 

“Where are you going to water them?” Bart 
asked. 

“In the brook,” John said. “We must have 
running water. Giles and your father are going 
to make a steep-pool to-day.” 

The boys found that a steep-pool was very 
simply made. Stakes were set in the water in 



They tied the bundles at the seed end 


the form of a square. Then the bundles of flax and 
hemp were piled in firmly, each alternate layer 
at right angles with the one under it. A cover 
of boards and heavy stones was piled on top. 

The bundles were left there for five days, and 
then the rotting leaves were removed, and the 


214 


Little Pioneers 


flax was cleaned. Once more the rhen and boys 
dried it and tied it into bundles. 

“Now comes the hard work,” John told the 
boys. “We must break all this with the flax 
brake, separate the flbers, and get out the hard, 
wood center.” 

The flax brake was an ugly instrument, con- 
sisting chiefly of two rows of sharp slats of wood, 
an upper row and a lower. These slats were 
pounded on the flax by means of a heavy mallet. 

Bart and Love noticed that only the strongest 
men were chosen for this work. 

“Did you not see that even John Alden’s arm 
grew tired?” asked Love. “And Giles Hopkins 
could work only the half day.” 

“It seems to me the flax will never be ready for 
spinning,” Bart said. 

“Priscilla told me this morning that it would 
be a good year before she would be able to make 
this flax into fine white napkins,” replied Love. 

“Aye,” said John, who overheard them, “and 
Priscilla’s work will take even more skill than 
ours. But at least to-day will see us a long way 
advanced.” 

.The next day the boys saw the next step. The 
flax was opened with great hammers made of 
wood, ridged like a cook’s implement for pounding 
.steak. 


The Flax Workers 215 

Finally John Alden told them that the flax 
was almost ready to spin. 

“We must heckle it now,” he said. 

To heckle meant to separate the longer and 
better portions of the flax fiber, called “line,” 
from the shorter and raveled fiber, called “tow.” 
The boys were allowed to use the hand heckle, 
which was a steel comb with many teeth. It 
was fun to pull the fibers through the teeth, but 
Love became alarmed when he saw how often the 
fiber broke and raveled. 

“There is so little line,” he said to John Alden, 
‘ ‘ and so much tow, I am afraid it will not be worth 
Priscilla’s time to spin. There seems so little 
good fiber left.” 

“Aye, but you will be struck with wonder to 
see how much linen thread Priscilla will make 
from each little bundle of flax,” John said. 

At last all the flax was ready for the spinners. 

Now they were anxious to see Priscilla and the 
girls do their share of the work. So one bright 
August day Priscilla took some flax and said she 
would spin. She laughed when the children all 
came into the Brewster house to watch her. 

‘ ‘ One would think you had never seen spinning 
before,” she said. 

“But, Priscilla, the flax you have spun before 
this was not our own flax, that we planted.” 


2i6 


Little Pioneers 


“Aye,” Priscilla said; “we have had but little 
to spin with until now, or else Damaris and Mary 
would have learned.” 

Priscilla went over to her small flax wheel. 



Priscilla took some flax and said she would spin 


She wrapped some flax about the spindle. Then 
she sat on a stool and began to work the treadle 
with her foot. So she spun the fiber into a long 
even thread which, by the movement of the wheel, 


The Flax Workers 


2iy 


was wound on bobbins. There was a wooden cup 
for water hanging on the wheel, and in this Priscilla 
moistened her fingers as she held the twisting flax. 

When all the bobbins were filled, the thread 
was wound off in knots and skeins on a reel. A 
machine called a clock-reel counted the exact 
number of strands in a knot, — usually forty. 
It took twenty of these knots to make a skein. 

How many such skeins can you do in a 
day, Priscilla?” asked Love, after Priscilla had 
explained her work. 

“Not more than two, if I work hard all day.” 

“I had rather heckle than spin,” said Love. 

“And I had rather spin than bleach,” said 
Priscilla. “After I have enough skeins of thread 
I must put them in warm water for four days. I 
must keep constantly changing the water and 
wringing out the skeins. Then I wash them in 
the brook till they leave the water unstained.” 

“And then are they ready?” 

“No; then I bleach them in ashes and hot 
water again and again. Then I lay them in clear 
water for seven days. Then I seethe and rinse 
and wash and dry, and at last I wind them on the 
bobbins of the loom. Then I am ready to weave.” 

“We have done no weaving all year, have we, 
Priscilla?” asked Remember. “And yet we need 
the cloth.” 


2i8 


Little Pioneers 


“Aye, but we had enough linen cloth,'' Priscilla 
said; “and we have no woolen yarn to make 
woolen cloth." 

“If the next ship brings us sheep we shall be 
able to make cloth," Love said. 

“Yes, and if it does not, we shall make deerskin 
clothes," replied Priscilla. 

“When I was in the loft of the common house 
yesterday I saw the great loom," Bart said. “At 
first I thought it was a fourpost bedstead. Then I 
saw the yam beam, and knew it was a loom." 

“Mistress Brewster has set out the tape looms," 
said Priscilla. “We have some half dozen of those, 
and now Ellen and Damaris and Mary may make 
shoestrings, and hair laces, and belts for the boys." 

“Oh, Priscilla, let me have a tape loom now!" 
cried Damaris. 

“Well, then, look in the chest there," said 
Priscilla. 

Damaris brought out a thin board, cut so 
that the center was made of narrow slats. These 
slats had a row of holes running crosswise. The 
warp threads passed through the holes. Priscilla 
strung the loom with thread. Then she worked 
a shuttle containing the woof threads forward 
and back across the warp. 

“There!" said Priscilla. “After this, you 
little girls may do all the tape weaving." 


The Flax Workers 


2ig 

“Are you going to weave fine linen when you 
have spun thread, Priscilla?” asked Love. 

“Yes, but it will take some time,” said Pris- 
cilla. “After I have woven the linen web I 
must rinse and dry and bleach again many times. 
I must keep the web spread on the grass for weeks. 
Perhaps this time a year I shall have some fine 
table linen made.” 

“I should like a fine linen shirt,” said Love. 

“And I heard my mother say she wanted some 
linen bed hangings,” John Billington said. 

“All in good time,” said Priscilla. “The first 
work I want to do is spin some flax, and weave 
it with tow thread into coarse fustian cloth to 
make autumn clothes for you children.” 

“What color will it be?” asked Mary. “A 
light brown?” 

“Yes.” 

“I wish it could be blue or green,” said Love. 
“Squanto says he knows how to make dyes and 
colors from roots.” 

“Then we shall ask Squanto to teach us to 
dye,” said Priscilla. “But see, the sun is getting 
low and I must help Mistress Brewster with the 
supper. Now, tell me, boys and girls, would 
you rather grow flax, or spin it?” 

“Grow it,” said the boys. 

“Spin it,” said the girls. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Harvest Time 

Tj^VERY day the little pioneers worked in the 
fields. It was soon plain that the wheat 
and pease which the Puritans had brought from 
England were not going to grow. So all their 
hopes were centered on the com. 

The children thought the fields looked very 
pretty, the great stalks grew so tall, the leaves 
were so green, and the com silk so soft. 

“It is so tall that ’t is a good thing our Indians 
are friendly,” Giles Hopkins said. “See what a 
good hiding place it would make for enemies. 
Indians could crawl from row to row of stalks, 
and be upon us with bows and arrows before we 
could move.” 

“It might be our death, but it is our life,” John 
Alden replied. 

The children knew what he meant. The 
pioneers had been so weak and sick after their 
hard winter that they could never have cleared 
the fields to plant. Without these cornfields 
which the dead Indians had left for them, the 
white men would have died. 

“Could we not eat fish and clams?” asked Love. 


220 


Harvest Time 


221 


'‘Nay,” said John, “the single diet with no 
variety would be weakening. We could not 
weather another winter without the corn.” 

Under Squanto’s direction the pioneers had 
planted the corn just as Indians did. They 
fertilized the ground with dead fish, planted a 
number of kernels in each little hill, and set out 
also pumpkins and beans. The children liked 
to see the pumpkin vines running among the 
little hills. 

The day they first picked corn the children 
were up bright and early, ready to follow the men 
to the fields. Squanto led the way, proud of 
being teacher to the pioneers. They picked 
great pails and baskets full. Some of it they 
stored in the loft of the common house, and some 
they piled in a corner downstairs, ready for use. 

The children thought they could have some 
com bread for supper, but John Alden told them 
they were too impatient. 

“We must make meal first, and that takes 
time,” he said. “The corn must dry before we 
can shell it. But Squanto has promised to show 
us how to cook some corn on the ear.” 

About an hour before noon Squanto said he was 
ready to cook. He built a big bonfire on the 
edge of the field. When he had plenty of hot 
ashes he picked out a great many long ears of 


222 


Little Pioneers 


com. He wrapped them in green corn leaves 
and put them under the ashes. 

Then he went back and picked more corn, while 
some of the children kept up the fire. It seemed 



a long time before the corn was done. But at 
last it was ready, and at dinner that day the 
children ate their first roasting ears. 

The next day Squanto showed Priscilla how to 
boil corn. They built a fire on the hearth and 


Harvest Time 


223 


Priscilla and Mistress Brewster hung over it the 
great ship’s kettle, which weighed forty pounds 
and held fifteen gallons. They half filled it with 
water, and then they put in many ears of corn, 
wrapped in leaves. 

When she thought the corn was done, Priscilla 
had to call John Alden to take the kettle off the 
fire for her. He poured away the yellowish 
water, and Priscilla picked up an ear of corn, and 
began to tear off the leaves. But the leaves 
•retained a good deal of boiling water and poor 
Priscilla scalded her fingers. She had no fork 
to help her clear the corn; she used a napkin, a 
knife, and a spoon. 

Priscilla put a little flaxseed oil on her fingers, 
and then she said, “My scalded fingers are a 
help to my brain. ’T would be just as well to 
clear the corn before ’t is cooked. See how the 
silk clings to the hot kernels.” 

So the next time Priscilla boiled com she made 
the ears perfectly clean first. 

Though the children had to eat their roasted 
and boiled corn without butter, it seemed to them 
delicious. 

“Do you know how the horses in England act 
in the springtime?” said Bart to Love. “My 
father has often told me how they strain at their 
collars to get a nibble of the fresh grass. I am 


224 - 


Little Pioneers 


sure they are no gladder than we are to have 
this fresh food.” 

“In truth, I grow very tired of fish and clams,” 
Love said. “It seemed good to eat the first wild 
berries and wild cherries, and now the corn.” 

“But I wish it were time to make the meal,” 
Bart said. “Squanto says he will teach us how 
to make many good dishes.” 

It was a good many days, however, before any 
meal was ready. The pioneers had built a low 
crib outdoors for some of the corn, so that it could 
receive plenty of light and air. The children 
examined the corn almost every day. But it was 
a month after it had been picked before Squanto 
pronounced it ready for use. 

“Now, children,” said John Alden, one morning, 
“Squanto says the corn is ready for you to shell.” 

The children began to run to the crib. 

“Not so fast,” cautioned John. “What are 
you going to shell it with?” 

“With our hands, to be sure,” said Bart. 

“Well, you may try,” said John, laughing, 
“but you’ll soon stop.” 

“Then I’ll take my knife,” said Bart. 

“No,” John said; “go to the common house 
and bring the iron shovels, and go to the women 
and ask them for what frying pans they can spare.” 

When they were all seated in the corncrib 


Harvest Time 


225 

John Alden showed them how to scrape ofif the 
kernels with the edge of a frying pan. 

“You see,” he explained, “a knife is not large 
enough, nor could you hold it firmly enough.” 

This was fun, the children thought. The girls 
scraped the corn into their laps, and then shook 
the kernels into a tub. The boys laid towels 
across their knees to catch the kernels. Soon 
Bart fastened his frying pan over the tub, and then 
drew his ear across the sharp edge. 

“Well done,” said John; “that drops the 
kernels into the tub without troubling you to 
catch them. So we save time.” 

Soon all the children were skillfully at work. 
John Alden was about to leave them, when he 
noticed that John Billington was throwing away 
his corncobs. 

“Nay, John,” he said, “why do you not think? 
Do not waste the cobs.” 

“I did not think they could be of use,” said 
John. 

“Remember, why are you saving' yours?” 
asked John Alden. 

“I had thought that little Samuel and Peregrine 
could use them to build houses of,” replied 
Remember. 

“A kind thought,” said John; “and when the 
babies are done with them we shall use them as 


15 


226 


Little Pioneers 


light wood for the fires. They will make a fine 
blaze, I warrant you.” 

The children did not have any meal that day. ^ 
They had to wait till Squanto had steeped and 
parboiled the kernels in hot water for twelve 
hours. 

But the next day they helped him make the 
meal. Squanto took them and Priscilla to one 
of the fields. The children carried some pails, 
two rather closely woven baskets, and a linen sheet. 
Squanto led them to a comer of the field in which 
were two hollowed stones. Into these he put 
some kernels. Then he pounded the corn yrith a 
big stone. Bart and Love helped him, and soon 
the kernels began to break up into coarse meal. 

When the hollows were full of meal, Squanto 
put it in the closely woven baskets. Priscilla and 
Mary sifted it over the sheet. 

“Just see the little golden showers of meal!” 
cried Love. 

“Aye, it is our gold,” said Priscilla, “all the 
gold we shall need.” And, indeed, in after years 
the settlers used com as if it were truly gold or 
silver, paying their taxes with it. 

The boys took turns at pounding the kernels, 
and the girls took turns at sifting. By and by 
Mistress Brewster and Mistress Hopkins came out 
to help. Then Squanto took the children to the 


Harvest Time 


227 

woods, and showed them how to make what was 
called a “sweep and mortar mill.” 

He took them to a stump about three feet high, 
which he had hollowed out by burning. This 
served as the mortar. Then he took a heavy 



Priscilla and Mary sifted the meal over the sheet 


block of wood, shaped like the inside of the 
hollowed tree. To one side of this block John 
Alden had fitted a handle. 

Squanto fastened this block to the top of a 
young tree, which was bent over. This tree 


228 


Little Pioneers 


acted as a kind of spring which would pull the 
block up after it had been pounded down on the 
corn. 

The children were delighted with their mill. 
Squanto began to work it, and it made a very 
loud clapping noise. Priscilla came running, 
with her fingers over her ears. 

“Such a to-do!” she cried. “I am sure you 
could hear it half a mile away.” 

“’Twill be a good signal to use when more 
people come, and we build our houses farther 
apart,” Love said. 

And, indeed, he proved a true prophet; for in 
later years that is just how the lonely wives of 
settlers communicated. When they could not go 
to see one another, they sent messages by pound- 
ing on their mortars. 

Squanto called the coarse meal he made from 
this mill “samp.” The settlers adopted all 
Squanto’s Indian terms for the food he showed 
them how to make of com, such as samp, hominy, 
pone, supawn, and succotash. 

The first thing that Squanto taught them to 
make was samp porridge. He boiled the samp 
with water and salt. Thus the children ate it 
with a little butter put on it. The next day 
Squanto cooked it mixed with dried huckleberries. 
Then Priscilla made what she called “hasty 


Harvest Time 


22g 


pudding.” She boiled com meal and sugar 
together for a long time. Hasty pudding was 
the name they had given in England to pudding 
of wheat flour and milk. The children did not 
think it was a very good name for Priscilla’s 
pudding, especially when it took so long to cook. 

Love liked succotash very much. As Squanto 
cooked it, it was merely corn boiled like beans. 
But to-day we use the word for a dish made of 
com and beans boiled together. 

Squanto showed them one way of using corn 
which afterwards became very common among the 
settlers. He parched the kernels in hot ashes, 
and then beat them into powder. This was called 
“nocake.” It was considered very nourishing. 
Whenever, in later years, the pioneers went on a 
journey, they used to carry a bag of nocake with 
them. They ate it with snow in winter and with 
water in summer. 

The children were glad that they were to have 
so many different kinds of food made from corn. 
Squanto ’s greatest surprise came last. The chil- 
dren had noticed that he used one special corner 
of the crib for some rather small ears of corn. 
He would never let them try to make meal of 
this kind of com. One evening in autumn, 
when the nights were beginning to be a little 
cool, Squanto built a Are on the common-house 


2J0 


Little Pioneers 


hearth. Then he shelled some of the small ears 
of corn. He got a deep skillet from Mistress 
Brewster, and, putting some kernels in it, he held 
the whole over the fire. 

“You’ll burn the corn,” said Remember; “for 
you have not put water in the skillet.” 

Squanto made no answer, but began to move 
the skillet quickly back and forth. Presently the 
children heard a “pop-pop!” 

“You are breaking Mistress Brewster’s skillet!” 
cried Remember. 

“Oh, oh!” shrieked Damaris. “The corn is 
turning into flour!” 

The corn kept popping up and turning into big 
white kernels. Squanto moved the skillet so 
skillfully that hardly any of it fell into the fire. 

He poured this new white food into a wooden 
dish and the children began to eat their first 
pop corn. How splendid they thought it, espe- 
cially when Priscilla poured a little melted maple 
sugar over it. 

“Oh, I would rather live here than in England,” 
cried Love; “for they have no com there.” 

“So would I,” said all the other children. 


CHAPTER XX 


The Great Event of the Year 

T he three men in the Plymouth colony 
whom the children respected most were 
Governor William Bradford, Elder William 
Brewster, and Captain Miles Standish. 

Miles Standish worked in the fields like the 
other men, but he was born to be a soldier. 
When the spring and summer work had been 
well under way, and the men were growing daily 
stronger, through being in the mild, open air. 
Miles Standish began to think of soldier work. 

“Here you are all becoming farmers,” he said: 
“as if our lives would always be peaceful.” 

“And so, for a time, they will be,” said the 
governor; “for we have our treaty with 
Massasoit.” 

“Aye, for a time,” said Standish; “but the day 
will come when other tribes will rise against us. 
And I ask now that you give me men to drill 
every day.” 

It was not possible for the men to drill every 
day, but they met often enough to satisfy Miles 
Standish. He was a stern taskmaster, and he 
made the men march and countermarch, and 


231 


2J2 


Little Pioneers 


shoulder arms and present arms, and repel mimic 
attacks, day after day. Then he formed a com- 
pany of the boys, which he let Giles Hopkins 
drill. The boys were not allowed to carry 
muskets, but they drilled with sticks. Captain 



The boys drilled with sticks 


Standish was much pleased with them. He told 
Giles to teach Love and Bart and John Billing- 
ton how to sound the trumpet, and he taught 
Wrestling to beat the drum. 

One day, when the drilling was just over and 
Love and Bart had gone into the woods to look 


The Great Event of the Year 2jj 

for nuts, Squanto suddenly stood before them. 
As usual, he was walking noiselessly. Love and 
Bart had trained their ears so that they could 
hear very slight sounds, especially Love. But 
Squanto could always approach them unheard. 

“Well met, Squanto,” shouted Love. “Come, 
then, and help us get nuts.” 

“I cannot,” said Squanto. “I have news for 
the white captain.” 

He hurried past them, and they followed him 
through the woods, into Leiden Street, and up 
to the captain’s house. Captain Standish was 
on the hill where the fort was to be. 

He was pacing up and down, measuring again 
the length of the ground on which he intended the 
fort to stand. In his mind’s eye he could already 
see that sturdy house, twice as tall as any of the 
others, with cannon securely mounted, and a 
stockade built around it. He was deep in thought 
when Squanto hailed him. 

“I have news for my white brother.” 

“What news?” asked Captain Standish. 

“One of Massasoit’s warriors brought us news 
of a strange ship,” said Squanto. 

“A ship!” cried the captain. 

“The Indian had run fifty miles,” said Squanto. 

“A ship!” repeated the captain. His face 
lighted with joy. “And was it an English ship?” 


234 


Little Pioneers 


“I know not,” replied Squanto. “The Indian 
told me it seemed not like your ship the May- 
flower. It seemed to him much like the ship of 
the French traders whom my tribe killed because 
white men carried my brothers into slavery.” 

“French!” exclaimed the captain, and his 
face grew grave. 

Bart and Love knew that the French were 
enemies of England, and that a French ship 
might destroy the English settlement. 

“Go, Love; go, Bart,” the captain ordered. 
“Call the men together from the fields. Call 
them to the common house.” 

The boys ran as fast as they could, shouting 
as they went. 

Meanwhile Captain Standish went to the big 
gun which stood under a shelter, and fired it, 
thinking that the men would take the sound as 
a danger signal. 

Soon they came running from the fields and 
the woods. They ran into the common house 
and got out their armor and swords, and the 
big muskets. The women ran out of the houses 
and stood in frightened groups in the street. 
Bart and Love got the trumpets, and John 
Billington the drum. 

“Good!” said Captain Miles Standish. “Even 
our children are ready to fight!” 


The Great Event of the Year 2JS 

They all marched up the hill, the women and 
girls last. Some of the men carried two muskets. 

“I wish I could have a musket,” whispered 
Love. 

“And I,” said Bart. “I have seen the men 
load so many times that I know I could do it.” 

“The muskets are very tall,” Love said. “I 
doubt if I could reach to the barrel to ram down 
the charge.” 

“But these muskets are already loaded,” Bart 
said. “Perhaps we shall have a chance to fire!” 

After a long time they saw the ship coming 
slowly into the harbor. It seemed very large 
and beautiful to the children. They stood and 
watched it coming nearer and nearer. No one 
said a word. The men stood in front, muskets 
in hand, all ready to light the powder. The 
women stood behind, their faces white and set. 
There were tears in Priscilla’s eyes, for though 
she lived with the English settlers she could not 
help remembering that she was of French birth. 

The ship came nearer and nearer. The boys 
thought every minute that Captain Standish 
would give the order to fire. Suddenly they saw 
a movement on the ship near the mainmast. 
Slowly a flag was run up. It fluttered for a 
moment, and then rolled itself out on the breeze. 
It was the English flag! 


236 


Little Pioneers 


How the men cheered and the children laughed ! 
Mistress Brewster wept in Priscilla’s arms, for the 
ship meant news from home. Perhaps she would 
hear from her two daughters and her son in 
England. 

Every one ran down the hill. Bart and Love 
blew on the trumpets, and John Billington sounded 
the drum with all his strength. 

“What ship can it be?” said the governor. 
“It certainly is not the Mayflower. It is no ship 
I ever saw before.” 

Soon some sailors on the ship lowered a pinnace, 
and several men got in it and rowed ashore. 
When they came near the land the governor turned 
to Elder Brewster. 

“It is Mr. Cushman,” he said. 

Mr. Cushman had been an agent of the pioneers 
in the old days in England, and was a good friend 
to all of them. 

The governor turned back to watch the boat. 
There were some twenty young men in it, and one 
boy about fourteen years old. 

“Ah, ’tis Mr. Cushman’s son, Thomas,” said 
Elder Brewster, looking at the boy; “a strong 
lad.” 

When the sailors who were rowing beached the 
boat, Mr. Cushman jumped out, and all the 
young men after him. Love and Bart noticed 


The Great Event of the Year 2J7 

with disapproval that they talked and laughed 
noisily among themselves. 

Mr. Cushman shook hands warmly with the 
governor. “You did not expect me,” he said; “I 
ventured my ship Fortune to see how you have 
fared. I see there is a good half of you left alive.” 

“We thank God for that mercy,” said the 
governor. 

“Aye,” returned Mr. Cushman; “and here 
you see the new settlers I have brought you to 
take the place of those you have lost.” 

The governor looked gravely at the newcomers. 
They stopped talking, and bowed politely to him. 

“I trust they will find themselves willing and 
able to share in hard work with us,” said Governor 
Bradford. 

“Nay, then, worshipful governor,” spoke up 
one young man; “we are not such grave Puritans 
as we shall be when we are older. But we are 
willing to work under the laws of the colony. 
What do you say, lads?” 

Most of the young men replied, “Aye, that 
we are.” 

The governor felt somewhat satisfied. Mr. 
Cushman ordered the sailors to row back to the 
Fortune for the rest of the men and such stores 
as they had. Then the governor led the way to 
the common house. 


238 


Little Pioneers 


“They are a thoughtless lot of youths,” said 
Mr. Cushman, dropping his voice. “I doubt not 
you will have to discipline them somewhat. They 
are too improvident. They have wasted the food 
on ship shamefully.” 

“I hope they have brought many stores with 
them,” said the governor, anxiously. “You 
know we are but poorly provided. We have 
been disappointed in some of our crops.” 

“We must make the best of it,” said Mr. 
Cushman. “I doubt if they have much more 
than the clothes they stand up in. We shall see, 
however.” 

After the young men had reached the common 
house they seemed quite at home. They talked 
freely to the men and women, finding out that 
they had common friends in England. 

“But surely you have brought us some word 
from England?” said Mistress Brewster. 

“Aye, that we have,” answered the one who 
had spoken to the governor on the shore; “we 
have a little bag full of letters, — and we have 
something else that will please you, Mistress 
Brewster.” 

Just then the sailors came in, carrying a few 
chests and bundles, which they set on the floor. 
Behind them walked the remaining passengers 
of the Fortune. When she looked at them. 


The Great Event of the Year 2;^g 

Mistress Brewster gave a little cry, for there 
among them stood her son, Jonathan. How glad 



Mistress Brewster gave a little cry, for there stood her son, Jonathan 

she was to see him! If she had known that in 
less than two years her daughters would reach her, 
she would have been still happier. 

Meanwhile, Captain Miles Standish had been 
looking frowningly at the stores. 


240 


Little Pioneers 


“Is this all you have?” he asked. “I hope 
those chests hold armor.” 

“Very little,” replied Jonathan Brewster; “we 
may have half a dozen swords and muskets 
between us.” 

“Humph!” said Captain Standish; “thirty-five 
of you, and no more weapons than that ! ’T is 
well we are not ill provided here with muskets and 
swords. To-morrow I must make a drill company 
of you.” 

“But surely you have bedding, and pots and 
pans?” inquired Mistress Brewster anxiously. 

“Nay, dame,” said the young man who had 
first spoken. “If our welcome depends on what 
we bring, we are like to get a poor welcome.” 

“Indeed, you are heartily welcome,” said 
Mistress Brewster. 

“We should have come better provided,” went 
on the young man. “But all we bring, I fear, are 
some Burching-Lane suits.” 

“Now that is good news!” cried Mistress 
Hopkins. “A good Burching-Lane suit is very 
lasting. The cloth wears wonderfully well.” 

“ ’T is almost as good as if you had brought 
sheep over,” said Giles Hopkins. “With these 
suits, and the doublets we shall make of deerskin, 
we shall last till the next ship comes.” 

The young men opened the chests and showed 


The Great Event of the Year 241 

what they had brought. Meanwhile the bag of 
letters had been distributed, and news from home 
yas being read with tears and smiles. 

“Your sisters Patience and Fear will come in 
the next ship,” said Mistress Brewster to Love 
and Wrestling. 

It was an evening of great excitement. The 
governor arranged to send a cargo back on board 
the ship Fortune. It was to consist of beaver 
and otter skins which they had bought from the 
Indians, and clapboards which they had cut and 
made during the spring and summer. Plans were 
talked over, and questions asked. The pioneers 
wanted to hear all that had been happening in 
the great world since they had left it. 

“The good ship Fortune has been our good 
fortune,” said Elder Brewster that night when 
they were all about to part to go to bed. “Even 
if you had brought nothing with you, you would 
have been heartily welcome, if only for the sight 
of your English faces.” 


16 


CHAPTER XXI 


The Thanksgiving 

T he month of November was one of the 
busiest and happiest the Puritans had ever 
known. To begin with, there were all the strong 
newcomers to help build their houses, and break 
fresh ground for planting. Then the Indians 
were constant in their friendliness. And above 
all, their means of getting a livelihood seemed 
continually increasing. 

The women began to feel as if they were really 
housekeeping. For one thing, they had done a 
|reat deal of preserving. All the children had 
helped to pick berries and stone plums. They 
had seen the fruit generously mixed with maple 
sugar or honey, and put in great stone jars. 

Then Priscilla had spun the coarse linen fustian, 
and they had watched her make experiments in 
dyeing it, under Squanto’s direction. They had 
used the bark of red oak and hickory for the cloth. 
The result was beautiful shades of brown and 
yellow. From the bark of the sassafras they got 
orange dye. But Mistress Brewster said the 
yellow and orange were too gay, so Priscilla had 
to make the linen brown. Walnut and maple 

242 


The Thanksgiving 


243 


bark dyed brown, the wild indigo plant blue, and 
scrub oak mixed with red maple bark made black. 

Another employment the women found was 
making soft soap. All through the winter they 



They watched Priscilla make experiments in 
dyeing the linen 


had kept the refuse grease from the cooking of 
venison and fish. They had also saved the wood 
ashes from the great fireplaces. Then, during 
the spring, John Alden had made them half a 
dozen strong barrels. 


244 


Little Pioneers 


First, came the making of lye. The women 
took each barrel, filled it with ashes, and then 
added water. The barrels were so set and 
inclosed that each had an outlet. Through this 
the mixture, or lye, flowed into a large tub or 
kettle. If this lye was not strong enough, it was 
poured over fresh ashes. 

The lye and grease were then boiled together 
in the large kettle. It took six bushels of ashes 
and twenty-four pounds of grease to make a 
barrel of soft soap. The soap looked like clear 
jelly. Remember said he could hardly believe 
it would clean things, when he thought of the 
grease and ashes of which it was made. 

The children declared that there was more soap 
made than they could ever use in a year. But 
Priscilla said that by the next year they would 
have used all the soap in the great washings. 
Priscilla also said that when the next spring came 
^he would make candles out of bear’s grease. She 
wanted a light that was steadier than that which 
the pine knots gave. Mistress Brewster tried 
using what was afterwards called a “Betty lamp.” 
She took a little pewter dish about two inches 
deep and three inches wide, which had a projecting 
spout, or nose. She filled it with fish oil and put 
in it a coarse linen wick, with one end lying out 
on the spout. This she lighted. But the flame 


The Thanksgiving 245 

was dull and smoking, and the children preferred 
the pine knots. 

While all this household work was going on, 
the men were busy in the fields, or else building. 
Captain Standish was impatient to have his fort 
completed, so the men were cutting great logs for 
that. They were also going to make a palisade 
which should inclose the hill and the whole street. 
By this time there were eleven houses altogether, 
seven for the use of the settlers and four for the 
use of the plantation. Besides, other houses had 
been begun. 

The Pilgrim fathers were to pass through 
another terrible winter. But, fortunately, they 
did not know this. They only felt the peace and 
plenty about them. For this reason they decided 
to have a day of thanksgiving. It was to consist 
of services in the church, and a great feast 
afterwards. 

On the Thursday which the governor chose, at 
about nine o’clock, Giles Hopkins beat upon the 
drum. Then, just as if it were Sunday, the 
pioneers formed in a procession. First went 
Giles, beating the drum. After him the company 
walked three abreast; the first three were the 
governor, with Elder Brewster on his right and 
Captain Standish on his left. All three wore 
cloaks, and the captain carried also his side arms 


246 


Little Pioneers 


and cane. Some of the children walked with 
their parents. Love and Bart and John Billington 
walked side by side. 

They went into the common house and took 
their seats quietly on the benches. The older 
persons had the front seats, the men on one side 
and the women and girls on the other. The boys 
sat together at the back, with John Alden on a 
bench near them. These early little pioneers were 
always good in church. 

Elder Brewster stood in front of them all, with 
a roughly made pulpit at his side. On this pulpit 
was an hourglass, which John Alden turned at 
the end of each hour. When all were seated, the 
elder made a prayer. It was nearly an hour long, 
but the children were used to long prayers. 
Then he gave out a hymn, line by line. The 
singing of the Puritans was not very good, and 
they had no pitch pipe to set the key. After the 
singing, which lasted about half an hour. Elder 
Brewster preached a sermon an hour and a half in 
length. He recounted all the mercies that had 
been shown the Puritans, and he dwelt on the 
gratitude they should feel. 

By the time the services were over it was almost 
noon. The children were hungry, but they knew 
it would be some time before dinner could be ready. 

As it was a mild day, the women had decided to 


The Thanksgiving 


247 


set tables in the open air. The men helped carry 
the trestles and boards out, while the children car- 
ried table linen. The women began to hang pots 
over the fireplaces, and to get out meal and flour. 

Presently Love shouted to Bart : ‘ ‘ Look ! Look 
in the woods, Bart!” 

Coming out of the woods was a company of 
twenty of Massasoit’s Indians. They brought 
five deer with them, ready dressed to cook, and 
a birch basket full of oysters. 

The women were glad to see the venison, though 
it meant more work for them. Some of the men 
talked to the Indians by signs or with a few words, 
while the others worked, for the pioneers never 
wasted a minute. If they were not in the fields, 
or cutting wood, they were working with their 
jackknives. Perhaps they would make ax helves, 
or cut leather into strips for door hinges, or they 
would mend tools. 

For nearly two hours the women and girls and 
boys worked hard at cooking. Then they spread 
the tables for a feast, the like of which the children 
had never seen. There was a venison stew, and 
oysters cooked in clamshells. There were codfish 
balls, and dried herring. There were wild turkeys 
stuffed with sweets, and roasted ducks and quails. 
There was corn-meal pudding, and samp porridge, 
and pudding with wild plums in it. 


248 


Little Pioneers 


There was cake sweetened with honey, and 
cake sweetened with maple sugar. There were 
preserved cherries and plums and huckleberries 
and strawberries and raspberries. The children 
wondered if the trestles would bear it all. 

The pioneers had only two vegetables — wild 
turnips and pumpkins. They had not yet planted 
what we call “Irish” potatoes, and sweet potatoes 
were grown only by the colonists in the South. 
The pioneers liked the turnips, but not the pump- 
kins. Squanto had planted those pumpkins with 
the corn, and had shown them how to make pump- 
kin stew and pumpkin bread. This bread was 
made of pumpkin mixed with corn meal. Squanto 
said the pumpkins dried early and would be very 
useful. But it was a great many years before 
the colonists appreciated the pumpkin as a food. 
They used the empty shells to hold seed and grain, 
and the children made jack-o’-lanterns of them, 
just as we do to-day. 

Mary and Damaris had prepared a feast for 
their dolls. These battered creatures were set 
up to a stool. Each of the children had in her lap 
a baby doll, made of a corncob. On the table- 
stool was a teaset made of acorn cups and oyster 
shells. The dolls’ food was pumpkin rind. The 
boys helped them get the things ready. Bart 
made a fairy cradle out of leaves for each of the 


The Thanksgiving 24Q 

corncob babies, which were very pretty but a 
little too small. 

The dinner lasted a long time. The children 
wanted to eat a little of everything, but found 
they had to make a choice. They did not talk 
at table, for it was the Puritan custom that 



Mary and Damaris prepared a feast for their dolls 


children should not speak at meals unless spoken 
to. But they listened to what was said, and 
made little signs to each other. The Indians 
ate with the pioneers, but they did not talk, 
except Squanto. 

After dinner Elder Brewster said a long grace. 


230 


Little Pioneers 


and then all rose, and the first Thanksgiving 
dinner was over. 

The children did not feel like playing games. 
They asked Mistress Brewster if she would not let 
the other women clear away the remains of the 
feast, while she told them a story. 

So they all sat about her and she asked: 

'‘Shall it be a story of England, of home?” 

“But this is home, mother,” Love said. 

“In truth, it is. It must always be so to you 
children.” 

“Then tell us a story of New England, mother,” 
Love said. 

Mistress Brewster looked at the eager faces, 
and smiled. 

“This is a story of what New England will be 
in a hundred years,” she said. And she pictured 
a time when New England would be full of mills 
and farms and towns and cities. She told them 
that they would some day have rows of houses 
full of all necessary furniture. She said that they 
would have barns and houses and cows and sheep 
and machinery. She pictured the great sailing 
ships which would carry trade to them from 
England and France. 

The children listened, wide-eyed. Even the 
youngest knew that the great fortune of New 
England depended on their industry and loyalty. 


The Thanksgiving 


251 


Love and Bart were some day to grow up to be 
leaders in the community, but even they did not 
know how great America was to become. They 
did not guess, on that first Thanksgiving day, 
that their work as little pioneers would make life 
easier for the millions of children who would 
live in the country which they had helped to 
change from a wilderness to a nation. 


SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS 

I T IS important for the children to realize as 
accurately as possible the New England setting 
of these stories. To this end they should be 
shown pictures of Cape Cod, and of the Massachusetts 
shore in general. They should get an idea through 
picture postcards, and in other ways, of what Province- 
town harbor and Plymouth harbor look like, — the 
sand dunes of Provincetown, the pine trees, the 
historic Plymouth rock, and other coast features. 

They should be shown some reconstruction of the 
Mayflower and also a copy of the famous picture 
showing the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth. 
Another help to vizualization would be the well-known 
picture of the Puritans going to church; pictures of 
Priscilla and John Alden, of Miles Standish, and 
others of the more prominent pilgrims. Pictures 
of the old-time furniture should not be neglected. 
A study of the costumes is also advisable. Repro- 
ductions of clothes and of furniture and also of outdoor 
and indoor tools can be found in the following fully 
illustrated books by Alice Morse Earle: Child Life in 
Colonial Days; Home Life in Colonial Days; Two 
Centuries of Costume. 

It would be a useful exercise to have the children 
retell some of the “Little Pioneer” stories, illustrating 
them by drawings of costumes and furnishings, 
of Squanto’s apparel, of the wigwams of the Indians 


252 


Suggestions to Teachers 2^j 

who took John Billington, and of Remember Allerton’s 
Horn Book. 

To reinforce the stories, it might be advisable to 
read to the children certain parts of Governor Brad- 
ford’s Journal, and John Winthrop’s History of New 
England, 1630-1640. These, needless to say, give 
interesting accoimts of “what happened next.” Other 
good books to read from are: New England, by H. M. 
Brooks; All Along the Shore, by M. F. Sweetser; The 
Pilgrims, by J. R. Musick; New England, by Edward 
Everett Hale; New England, by Captain John Smith. 
A splendid bibliography is The Colonial Period Bibliog- 
raphy, by Mrs. M. C. Cragin. 

The moral lessons taught by these lessons are 
obvious: courage, fortitude, faith, obedience, diligence, 
honesty, truth, care of the weak, faith in God. The 
stories should show the necessity and value of discipline 
and of self-forgetfulness. All this can be brought out 
by the teacher’s questions and suggestions, and by 
telling other pioneer stories of Virginia, and of the 
Middle and Far West. To a certain extent, the 
children can dramatize the action in these stories. 
The main point is to have them gain, by every means 
possible, an appreciation of the sacrifice and courage 
of the early pioneers, big and little, who made possible 
our republic. 


PILGRIM STORIES 

By Margaret B. Pumphrey 

Delicate and full of feeling, 
these stori^ are some of the 
best beloved in the realm of 
child literature. 

Through the quaint little 
Brewster children, Patience, 
Fear, and Jonathan, the young 
life of the time is delightfully 
pictured, and its background — 
the sterner story of the fathers 
— is invested with a deeper 
interest. 

In short stories, beginning with Queen Anne’s visit 
to Scrooby Inn, the little Pilgrims figure in the whole 
^ romantic pilgrimage — from the day they left England 
down to the landing at Plymouth. We see them in 
their self-exile in Holland, their life in the New World, 
and, eventually, in the celebration of the first Thanks- 
giving. 

Line drawings by Lucy Fitch Perkins picture to the 
life the author’s conception of the little wanderers. 

A supplementary reader for third and fourth grades. 

Cover, pearl gray cloth with black line drawings. 

Price, 45 cents 

RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 







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